


the shapes in the silence

by delimeful



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Decisions, Dragon Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Feeling Trapped, Gen, Mild Blood, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Neutral Deceit | Janus Sanders, Pre-Episode: Accepting Anxiety, Secrets, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Vulnerability, aka the one where virgil turns into a tiny dragon when stressed, and the others accidentally totally adopt him, eventually, things are bad but they get better, tiny dragon au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:36:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delimeful/pseuds/delimeful
Summary: His small, leathery wings flapped a couple of times with his irritation, and he snorted, forcing the extra set of limbs to lay flat on his back. Of all things to become when he was sufficiently stressed… Well, it wasn’t like Thomas’s nonsensical mind was anything new to him. He should have expected this, really.…He couldn’t even have been a normal-sized dragon. At least then he’d be able to scare others off. Unbelievable.-Recently, Virgil finds himself occasionally stuck in the form of a miniature dragon. This isn't a problem until he runs into the others.





	1. the one where virgil gets a house arrest anklet

Virgil paced through his room in agitation, measuring pros and cons in his head. He didn’t want any of the other Sides to see him like this, for a multitude of reasons, but he’d put off eating to stew in bed for too long, and hunger had come back with a vengeance. 

Normally, this wouldn’t be too much of a problem. He would slink out of his room, use the well-worn shadowy corners of the mindscape to get to the shared common area, and lurk until he could find a moment where nobody was there. 

Those moments were far and few between, what with Patton’s insistence on cooking at all hours, as though trying to impart some of his culinary skills upon their host through persistence alone. Still, worst came to worst, he could always bluff through it. Patton knew when to back off most of the time, and the others were clearly more than happy to avoid contact with him whenever possible. 

That was normally, though, and now definitely wasn’t normal, he thought to himself, tail lashing behind him. 

Yeah, a freaking tail. Because he was currently in the form of a deep purple, chihuahua-sized dragon.

He’d worked himself into a panic attack the first time he’d woken up like this after a bad night, nearly drowning in his suddenly huge blankets, but by now it was just an unfortunate fact of his miserable life. If he got too worked up, he would change, and be stuck like that, no access to most of his normal abilities, until he’d turn back at seemingly random. He’d managed to wait every transformation out safely in his room so far, but after three days of little sleep and all his hoarded food gone… 

His small, leathery wings flapped a couple of times with his irritation, and he snorted, forcing the extra set of limbs to lay flat on his back. Of all things to become when he was sufficiently stressed… Well, it wasn’t like Thomas’s nonsensical mind was anything new to him. He should have expected this, really. 

…He couldn’t even have been a normal-sized dragon. At least then he’d be able to scare others off. Unbelievable. 

He paused for a moment at the door, pressing one of his deer-like ears against it. It was… fairly quiet. At the very least, if Roman or Patton were out there, he’d be able to hear them. Plus, at this size, it’d certainly be easier to hide in the shadows. His stomach reminded him of how empty it was with a grumble, and he grumbled back at it. 

Fine, he’d risk his scaly skin trying to get something to eat. Everything could go terribly wrong, but that wasn’t anything new for him anyways. 

He glanced up at the locked doorknob to his room, and then focused on wanting out. His room very thoughtfully provided a cat-flap, so well blended with his door that he almost missed it. He hissed petulantly at the indignity, and then pushed through it anyways. Better to have a quick way back into his room if things went south. 

He started down the hall at a swift jaunt, confident that nobody would come down this hallway since his room was the only one connected to it. Once he reached the stairs to the common area, he slowed considerably. He’d never seen the area while in this form, and it all felt so… large. 

He shook himself. No time to stall. 

Carefully, he slunk down the stairs, keeping away from the bannister so he could slide right into the more shadowy corner at the foot of them. He crept along the edge of the wall. If he followed it, he would end up at the doorway to the kitchen eventually-

A small movement, and he froze. 

On the padded armchair, Logan was sitting, back straight as he paged through a book. He’d almost missed the logical side with the way the chair was angled to the rest of the room. He berated himself. 

Roman was certainly the worst of the three he could run into here, but Logan was a close second. The Side had shown he was quite persistent in attempting to understand anything that confused him, and a cat-sized dragon sneaking around was sure to catch his attention. He shuddered. Definitely didn’t want to give Logan the opportunity to break out the mad scientist tools.

Slower, he continued moving, thankful that Logan’s attention was focused on the words in front of him. He made it to the kitchen entrance and peered in. No sign of Patton or any in-progress meals in sight, which made him almost sag with relief. He drew his claws in, careful to make as little noise as possible against the tile as he stalked over to the cracked-open pantry door. A full meal was impossible to make, so he’d just have to take as much as he could carry, and sneak out, preferably taking the other wall to be behind Logan’s line of sight. 

Unfortunately, as much as he could carry was… not a lot, at this size. Not only that, but he craved meat in this form more than anything. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, so he carefully sized up the jump and crouched, before leaping to the bottom shelf with a light thump. He froze, but heard no sounds indicating that Logan was getting up. Okay. So far, so good. 

He pushed himself up onto his hind legs, and gripped the shelf above with his claws, pulling himself up with an effort that strained his shaky muscles. His wings automatically started beating to give himself a boost, and he hurried to fold them back down yet again. Damned things. They were a lighter purple on the thin flesh that stretched between each wing joint, and ridiculously eye-catching. 

Still, his slip up didn’t seem loud enough that it would draw attention. Luckily, he’d left some of his stuff on the shelf second from the bottom, meaning that he didn’t have to do any more climbing. His food was mostly devoid of crinkly wrappers, so that his stealth kitchen runs were as quiet as possible. 

Before he could properly grab a protein bar, which was massively oversized in his little clawed hands, he heard footsteps on the tile. He immediately scurried back, pushing himself into the back corner of the shelf. In his rush, a bag of unpopped popcorn slid halfway off the shelf. He silently willed it not to fall, and then the pantry door was pulled fully open, letting in the ambient light. A pleasant humming was audible above him.

He stared at the blue shirt, his vision of the rest of the Side cut off by the shelf, pupils blown wide with fear and webbed ears pressed flat against his skull. Don’t panic, he told himself sternly. It was just Patton, probably grabbing something to snack on or trying to figure out what to make for dinner. Don’t panic. He just had to stay quiet and wait it out. Don’t-

Patton’s leg bumped the edge of the popcorn bag, and he paused in his humming. 

“Oh, who left this out?” 

His heart stopped as Patton crouched down, grabbing the errant bag and scanning the shelf for where it belonged. Soft brown eyes locked onto his own, and for a moment they were both frozen. 

Patton dropped the popcorn with a thud. “Oh my stars…” 

This was bad. Virgil tried to shove himself further back into the corner, barely seeing Patton’s starstruck expression. This was bad, this was bad. Patton lifted a hand and Virgil’s eyes snapped to it, his wings flaring out like a bird trying to make itself look bigger. He bared his teeth, a low growl rising up from his chest.

“Woah, woah, easy little guy! I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” Patton hurried to reassure him, leaning back and tucking his hands underneath himself. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The motion of sitting on one’s hands was so quintessentially Patton that some of the cloying fear faded from his mind. He immediately cut off the growling and made himself smaller, tucking his wings back in. What was he thinking, acting like some kind of feral animal? If it had been anyone but Patton, they’d have seen him as a threat for sure, and disposed of him accordingly. This form was so small, he wouldn’t even be able to fight back. 

Patton’s gaze seemed to brighten as he saw Virgil ‘calm down’, an awed smile crossing his face. “Well aren’t you just the cutest! What are you doing in our pantry, kiddo? Are you hungry?” 

Virgil was thankful that he couldn’t blush in this form, because this was utterly embarrassing. His ears flicked back and forth for a moment, wondering how he was going to get Patton to let him go, when his stomach made a groaning protest at even the mention of food. He resisted the urge to disown it. Patton gasped in surprise, and then nodded firmly, determination in the set of his brow. 

“Don’t you worry, little guy. I’m gonna fix you up something great!” 

With that, the moral side reached into the pantry with both hands, gently maneuvering Virgil out of his corner and into Patton’s arms. He tried to scuttle backwards, but Patton made soothing noises at him, and it wasn’t like he could actually bite him. The side clearly hadn’t figured out who he was; he had to depend on that if he wanted to make it out of this unscathed. He had to act timid, harmless. It was a jarring change from his normal persona. 

Still, he couldn’t help but dig his claws into Patton’s skin as he found himself high up in the air, suspended only by Patton’s arms. Sure he had wings, but it wasn’t like he’d ever practiced using them! 

Thankfully, Patton seemed content to set him down on the counter, smiling at him cheerily before opening the fridge to search its contents, beginning to list out possible food items he could use. Virgil eyed the drop to the ground, still a little dizzy from being lifted so suddenly. If he ran, would Patton chase him? He’d still be hungry, either way. Patton was treating him kindly, if a little patronizing, so would it really hurt to play the role long enough to get a meal…? So long as the other sides didn’t find out-

“Patton? Who are you talking to-?” 

Logan’s voice cut off sharply as Virgil whirled around, nearly slipping off the counter. No, no, no, no, no. Of course all the commotion had been audible from the living room. He turned tail as Logan approached, but before he could attempt to scale the fridge, a hand carefully seized the base of his wings, pinning them together the way one would hold a captured butterfly. His feet slid against the slick countertop uselessly. Trapped. Oh god, Logan was going to figure him out immediately and they were going to call Roman to slay him for being a monster and-

“Is this a… miniature dragon?” Logan asked, curiosity coloring his voice. Virgil’s tail lashed back and forth desperately as he ineffectively tried to wriggle out of the hold.

“Logan!” Patton greeted, “Yeah, I found him in the pantry! I’m trying to figure out what to make for him, poor thing’s half-starved!” 

“Curious.” He curled in on himself as Logan ran a critical eye over his form. “Starved seems like a mild exaggeration. What did you have in mind?” 

Patton hummed for a moment in consideration. “I’m not sure! What do you think, Lo?” 

“Well,” Logan shifted his grip, and Virgil suddenly found fingers prying open his mouth with relative ease, “going by its molars and canines, I would estimate it follows a mostly carnivorous diet.” 

He shook his head free of Logan’s grasp, growling lowly despite himself. Thankfully, Logan seemed unperturbed, simply turning away from him. 

“Beyond that, Patton, I find it likely that this creature escaped the Imagination. It would likely be happier to be returned to its natural habitat.” 

Virgil froze at the words, panic seeping through like ice in his veins. He already had a hard enough time defending himself in the Imagination when he had access to all his abilities. Like this, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Aww, c’mon kiddo, I want to make sure he’s properly fed before anything else! I’m sure Roman won’t mind if we keep an eye on the lil’ guy until he gets back, right?” Patton turned his pleading gaze onto Logan, who managed an admirable ten seconds before admitting defeat with a sigh and adjusting his glasses. 

“Very well. Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Don’t worry about it, Lo. I’m not the,” he lifted a package of sausages from the fridge, “_wurst_ at cooking, you know!” 

Logan groaned in admonishment at the pun, and then looked at Virgil consideringly. “In that case, I will keep an eye on our… unexpected guest.” 

Virgil’s stomach dropped unpleasantly, but he forced himself to focus. Patton had bought him time, so he wasn’t doomed just yet. They still thought he was just a dumb animal. He only needed to find an opportunity to get away. 

Despite his inner pep talk, he still shied away when Logan reached out for him, lifting him off the counter like one would lift a scruffed kitten. It was much less supportive than Patton’s carry was, and he started shaking in the hold, nerves getting the better of him. He’d been trying to suppress his instincts as best he could, but what was the point? It wasn’t like they knew it was him.

Logan didn’t pause as he walked past the array of furniture in the common area, heading upstairs, and Virgil felt his heart enter his throat. Where were they going? Was Logan taking him to the Imagination after all? Did he already know who he was, and was simply waiting until they were alone to get rid of him, to spare Patton the trouble? A distressed warble came out of his throat as he twisted in Logan’s grip.

“Stop moving,” the grip on him tightened, “I am not going to harm you.” 

Like he could trust that. Still, his thrashing slowed once he realized they weren’t, in fact, headed toward Roman’s side of the Mindscape. They were headed towards Logan’s room. He barely refrained from shooting a longing glance back at his own hall, trapped by Logan’s firm hold. So close, and yet so far.

Once they’d passed into the logical side’s room, he found himself deposited on Logan’s desk. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare around, having never been in any of the others’ rooms before.

There were a surplus of books piled around, unsurprisingly, but also a large, slowly revolving globe and an oversized telescope in one corner. A whiteboard took up half a wall, the air smelling faintly of dry erase marker. There seemed to be star maps charted out on the ceiling, and he wondered if Logan had drawn them by hand or simply willed the room that way.

Before he could take in any more, there was the sudden sensation of cold metal against his front leg, and a simple clicking sound. He jumped, waving his leg as though to shake the foreign object off. It remained steadily in place, and he stared at the small, metal band, heart racing in his ears.

It was a cuff, inscribed with small glowing circuits. 

“There,” Logan said with an air of satisfaction. “with that, you won’t be able to wander off while we aren’t looking.” 


	2. the one where roman interrupts virgil's nap to try and stab him

Virgil let out a frankly pitiful whine as his hopes of getting out of this mess shattered like glass. What did it do? How the hell was he going to get it _off?_ He started gnawing at it, but all he got in return was a sore mouth. 

“That’s not going to work. I manifested it with durability and tracking in mind, after all.” Logan reached over and lifted Virgil up again, this time sliding one hand under him to securely wrap around his chest and prop him up in one arm. 

It was much more stable, but that didn’t stop the discomfort running down his spine. He… didn’t normally get this much physical contact, and now people were picking him up and carrying him around nonstop. It was disorienting, and a large part of him wanted to bite at Logan’s hand, regardless of the fallout. He was way too vulnerable in this form. 

Before he knew it, Logan was re-entering the living room, and then setting him down on the couch before settling back into his former seat. Virgil shook himself, as though to get rid of the lingering feeling, and stared over at the stairs for a long moment. If he ran, he was pretty sure he was fast enough to reach his room before Logan could catch him, and then he could probably use his corner of the Mindscape to get the cuff off, but… 

Logan had said the metal band would track him. What were the odds that the others would accept it just so happening to come off in Virgil’s room, with no good explanation as to where the dragon went? They would want to enter his room, check to see if he- it?- was hiding somewhere. 

He would be so stressed he wouldn’t be able to change back, and if they found his dragon self in Anxiety’s room, they’d wonder how he got in. Logan, at the very least, would figure out the truth, and then he’d tell everyone, and Roman would- He shuddered, cutting the thought off. 

No. It was better to play it safe for now. Revealing a connection to ‘Anxiety’ would just get him killed, and he did not want to reform again. Though… He looked at the cuff, appraising it. If he managed to break the bones enough to slip it off, he could probably manage to get away clean. It’d mean he’d be out of commission for a while, though, and with Thomas’s videos lately, he had been working overtime trying to make sure everything would run smoothly.

Still, it was much easier to deal with than the strain of dying and reforming. That would take even longer. And with his track record, he was sure to get found out sooner or later. For now, he could keep up this facade for a little longer. 

He paced the length of the couch, and then leapt to the ground, flexing his claws over the carpet. He could feel the prickle of Logan’s gaze on him, and focused on not looking suspicious, likely making him look even more suspicious as he trotted over to the kitchen doorway. 

Inside, Patton was tending to three different pans, with something in the oven as well. He turned a burner down, and then smiled when he noticed Virgil standing there, pressed against the wall. 

“Hey there, kiddo! Did Logan give you a bracelet? How cute! You’re just in time, I’m almost done!”

Virgil watched as Patton carefully started dishing out the portions, moving the plates out to the living room. The smell was mouth-watering, and he couldn’t help but slink over to the oven while Patton was occupied, rising onto his hind legs to place his front legs on the glass and peer inside. His wings flared out a bit for balance, and he was delighted to see bacon baking inside the oven, tail swishing.

“Oh, are you excited?” Patton gushed, suddenly back in the kitchen. Virgil nearly tripped over himself as he scurried back, and Patton gave him a concerned look. “It’s okay, kiddo, you can look at it!” 

He leaned over and took the baking tray out, tilting it to show Virgil before setting it on the counter with a warning about heat. Once he was finished setting everything up, he squatted on the floor, holding his arms out hopefully. 

“C’mere, lil guy!” 

Virgil dallied for a long moment, looking away from the patented puppy-dog eyes. He was perfectly capable of walking to the living room on his own, and he definitely didn’t want to be carried around again, but if he denied him, would Patton simply pick him up against his will? He… wasn’t sure he wanted to test that theory. 

And really… if he thought about it, it wasn’t so bad, being touched so gently. It made something primal in the back of his mind croon with longing.

He crept forwards, some of his tension fading when Patton simply smiled brightly at him, waiting patiently, and jumped onto his lap. 

“Good job!” Patton praised as he curled his arms around him and stood, slower this time. Virgil huffed lightly, his pride stinging. At least if they ever found out he was a monster, he’d be dead before he could remember to be embarrassed about all this. 

Once they reached the living room, Patton set him down in front of a plate, and suddenly all he could think about was the crispy meat in front of him. Hunger outweighed his fear for a moment, and he quickly snapped up as much as he could comfortably fit in his shrunken stomach. 

“You were right, Lo, look how much he loves it!” Patton cooed from next to him, and Logan responded something about how he was always right, look at the necktie, ect. For once, Virgil was too blissed out to care too much, both dragon and human parts of his mind delighted at the meal. After he finished, he simply stretched out on the couch cushion, eyelids heavy. The lack of sleep was catching up with him. 

He tensed when a hand carefully slid him over so that he was next to where Patton sat, and then draped most of him under a light blanket, but after that, the sound of the television and easy silence between the other sides lulled him into a doze. 

It wasn’t safe but… it was nice. 

So naturally, Roman ruined it. 

“Rejoice, for I have returned triumphant!” Roman’s voice boomed, jerking Virgil out of his light sleep. He froze, still mostly covered by the blanket. How long had it been? Where were the others? 

“Roman! Welcome back, kiddo!” Patton said, still only a foot away. Not that long. “How was your day?” 

Roman launched into a tale without further prompting, bits and pieces of it catching Virgil’s ear through his haze of panic. Mostly mentions of his valiant battle against the Dragon Witch, which didn’t help his racing heart at all. He tried to figure out where to run that wouldn’t get him a gut full of metal, and then the voice abruptly trailed off. 

“Uh, Padre? What is that?” 

He froze, realizing that he’d started shaking without realizing it. Above him, Patton laughed sheepishly. “Well…”

“Please tell me you did not bring home another kitten.” 

“Not exactly…” 

The blanket above him began to lift away, and his head snapped up. Fight or flight.

Couldn’t fight.

Flight. 

He tore his way out of the blanket pile, ignoring the shouts of surprise. On instinct, he scaled the closest, tallest object, which just so happened to be Patton. He scrambled up to the Side’s shoulder, and before grasping hands could catch him, launched himself off past the back of the couch. He dropped for an agonizing second, and then his wings snapped out fully, catching himself in a low glide towards the kitchen. _Falling, with style_, he thought hysterically. 

He landed at the kitchen threshold already running, and slid onto the tile, claws clicking. Logan was standing by the sink, washing the dishes, and he turned slightly as Virgil barreled past, surprised. 

There was a window in the dividing wall, leading out to the other half of the commons. If he could just-

A throwing knife thudded into the cabinet next to him, and he skidded off course, veering towards the pantry. No, no, there was no way out from here! 

He turned desperately, but Roman was steps away, sword in hand, and he scrambled back, closing his eyes and wrapping his wings around himself as he curled up defensively. He was going to die and it would take ages before he reformed, he’d leave Thomas without guidance and none of them would even know _why-_

“Wait!” A shadow fell over him.

He flinched back at the voice, eyes snapping open, but it wasn’t Roman bearing down on him. 

Patton was standing in front of him, back to him and arms spread protectively to block him from Roman’s sight. What? 

“Don’t hurt him, he’s just scared-” 

“Patton, it just used you as a launching pad, you’re _bleeding-_” 

Patton was bleeding? Shit, what did he do? The past few moments felt like a blur.

“Both of you, calm down,” Logan’s voice broke into the argument, and both sides reluctantly settled. “Patton, Roman has far greater experience with creatures from the Imagination than us, so it would be wisest to let him handle the situation as he sees fit.” 

Virgil felt his throat close up, wings drawing closer to him as though to present a smaller target. Two against one. It was only logical to get rid of a monster. He really was going to die tonight. 

“However,” Logan continued, turning to Roman, “it’s possible that this creature is an anomaly. It has been here for the past several hours without attempting to attack either of us.”

“Probably a scheme to lower your defenses,” Roman muttered darkly, trying to glare at Virgil past Patton’s legs. 

“It is _not!_” Patton insisted, voice firm. “Look, he’s harmless!” 

“Patton, I do not think-” 

“Patton, _wait-!_” 

Virgil shrunk back as Patton turned to him, swiftly scooping him into his arms without a trace of fear or hesitation. He was too wrung out to attempt a protest, muscles shaky, and so he let himself be cradled. At this point, he’d do anything to avoid ending up on the wrong side of that sword. 

“… Huh. I must say, I’m surprised.” Roman blinked at him, slowly lowering his sword. “I have never seen a baby dragon that would allow itself to be handled by a human.”

“What did I tell you? Here, c’mere.” Patton tugged Roman closer, and then guided his hand over to Virgil, who immediately stiffened and flinched away. “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you, _right Roman?_” 

Roman studied Virgil intently for a moment, and to his surprise, nodded, sheathing his sword. “On my honor, I shall not strike first against this creature.” 

He hesitantly set his hand on Virgil’s head, as though expecting a painful surprise. The dragon in question was too stunned to avoid it. It was… that easy? He’d been certain that Roman would maintain a grudge, eye him with distrust for as long as they were in the same room together, subtly or even not so subtly try to get rid of him. It was all he’d really received from the prince so far. Why was this form somehow more acceptable than his normal one?

Fingers began to carefully scratch along the underside of his jaw, much too close to his neck for comfort. He hissed automatically, and then hurriedly withdrew, pressing into Patton as a meager defense. 

Unexpectedly, Roman laughed, drawing his hand back instead of lashing out with it. “A little spitfire, this one is.” He seemed… genuinely amused. 

Patton beamed, giving Virgil a gentle pat of his own. “Isn’t he?” 

Virgil huffed. It was better than cute.

“Am I to assume that you are unfamiliar with this dragon, Roman?” Logan interjected, an eyebrow raised. “Because we believed it had made its way here from your realm.” 

_Shit. Shit shit shit shit. _

“I’d guess the same, but I’ve certainly never seen it before now. I would remember a dragon so… docile.” 

Virgil glared daggers at Roman without thinking, but the prince only chuckled again. Above him, Patton’s voice took on a hopeful tone.

“In that case… maybe it would be alright if he stayed here for a while?”

Logan groaned. “Patton…” 

“Lo, you can’t say he’s not cute!” The moral side dangled Virgil out in demonstration.

The logical side didn’t deny it.

“And I’m not even allergic like with the kittens!” Patton cajoled, unaware of the growing horror Virgil was feeling. Patton wanted to _keep_ him. As a sort of… pet. 

It was theoretically better than being killed in the Imagination, but in practice, Virgil felt panic swarming his lungs like bees. He’d be trapped until his body gave out and changed back, and then they’d all be horrified that they’d kept a Dark Side so close, and then he’d die anyways, but they’d_ know_ afterwards. 

“The little guy is rather adorable,” Roman mused, watching Virgil’s tail lash back and forth. “But! At the very least, we should first see if there are any worried family members waiting for his return in the Imagination.” 

Patton inhaled sharply and drew Virgil close to him, as though the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “You’re right! Of course we can’t strip the little guy away from his family.” 

“In that case, we can finish this discussion after you have checked.” Logan turned away, going back to finishing the dishes, and Patton nodded firmly at Roman. 

“Lead the way!” 


	3. the one where roman jumps to the exactly wrong conclusion

The trip passed in a haze, Virgil’s head spinning from trying to figure out what to do, and also a mild case of hyperventilation he was desperately trying to muffle. He was trapped between a rock and a hard place, and no matter what he chose, it would definitely end badly. 

Too soon, they were in front of the portal to the Imagination in Roman’s hall, and the creative side turned to face them. 

“Patton, from here I will take the dragon alone,” Roman said, cutting off all protest. “The tides of the Mindscape have been turbulent lately, and I do not want you to come to harm. I promise to keep this tiny beast safe and sound.”

Patton frowned, but eventually nodded at Roman’s stubborn stance. He turned Virgil to face him, eyes suspiciously wet. “Okay, be safe little guy. I hope I’ll see you again soon.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but agree with the thought as Roman wrapped his hands around him, tucking him carefully against his chest. His head throbbed slightly, and he couldn’t focus enough to protest as the creative side stepped through to the Imagination.

The first half hour of the trip was fairly uneventful, spent wandering among the shifting landscapes where Roman most frequently encountered dragons. Virgil even got to see what residents of the Imagination normally looked like before things took a turn for the worse.

Roman frowned, studying the trees around them carefully. Virgil could feel his hackles raise, the sense of them getting closer to his position. He growled low in his throat, beyond caring about what Roman would think. He would die either way, at least Roman would make it quick. 

Maybe not once he figured out who Virgil really was, though. 

As though summoned by his thoughts, he spotted the first shadowy figure darting through the trees with a multitude of spindly legs. He snarled out a warning, and Roman turned to face the shadow just in time. His face contorted with shock and then fury, but his grip on Virgil remained steady as he drew his sword and attacked. 

Two more approached, one after the other, and once Roman finished besting them, he let out a heavy breath, and set the dragon on the ground in the middle of their clearing. Virgil blinked at the careful motion. Had he… not figured it out? 

“Don’t worry, dragonling. I’ll keep you from harm.” 

Roman turned away as more approached, and Virgil felt his jaw drop slightly. He… he had no idea. He really was a clueless moron. Did he even know-

“Come out, Anxiety, you foul villain, and face me yourself!” Roman shouted, blade clashing against the dark hide of a beast with hundreds of eyes. “I know these monsters follow in your wake!”

Virgil shrank back slightly. Oh. He did know. He just couldn’t connect the dots. 

Virgil watched carefully as the prince destroyed specter after specter before they could get close, a strange feeling in the back of his throat. 

He was… really protecting him, able to slash through shades that would take Virgil ages and probably a panic attack or two to defeat. It was weird, even if he knew that it wasn’t really him Roman thought he was defending. 

A flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he spotted a deep shadow creeping up in Roman’s blind spot. It probably wasn’t strong enough to do any real damage, Roman didn’t show a shred of fear while fighting, but… what if it _did?_ The thought was enough to make him panic, and he lunged for the shadow, screeching out a warning.

He was faster in this form, but even so, he was tiny. There was only so much damage he could do. The shadow jerked back as he latched onto it, teeth sinking into the ephemeral flesh. He managed to rake his hind claws across the creatures chest once, twice, and then he was flung off, hitting the ground and rolling. 

He groaned from the sensation of something twisting in his back leg, but hurriedly pulled himself up anyways. It would be on him soon, and he twisted as something approached, teeth bared-

Roman. He was reaching out in concern, the shadow already banished, and even as he drew back Virgil closed his mouth with a clack, his ears lifting in relief. The prince stared at him with an odd expression for a moment, before a branch snapped behind him and Virgil croaked an unneeded warning. With barely a pause, he was off again, fighting like he was born for it. It was like watching a choreographed dance. 

Moments later, there was a slight pause in the endless attackers, and Roman whirled around, scooping up Virgil with a startled squawk, and booking it. The prince muttered literature-based obscenities under his breath as he hurried back to the closest portal, diving through and closing it after him.

“Are you injured?” Roman asked, before carefully checking him over. Virgil held himself very still, not flinching away even when pressure was applied to the injured leg.

Once reassured that Virgil was unharmed, the prince sighed in relief, leaning against the wall with his free arm. Virgil leaned over to check that the idiot didn’t have head trauma from throwing himself around like that. 

“I am quite alright, little dragon,” Roman assured him, before his brow creased. “But a certain _emo_ is about to not be.”

By the time Virgil processed that Roman was talking about him, but not _this_ him, they were halfway down Virgil’s hall, and he panicked.

He let out a shaky warble and clawed his way up Roman’s shoulders as though to repeat the move he’d done with Patton before, ignoring the twinge of pain from his bad leg. Roman was swift enough to catch him, lifting him off carefully with a surprising amount of concern.

“Easy, easy, Puff the Jumpy Dragon! What are you doing?” 

Virgil cast a glance at his door in the shadows at the end of the hall. He couldn’t let them try to barge in and find it empty. When he looked back at Roman, he found that the prince was following his gaze consideringly. His heart stuttered.

“Are you… frightened of Anxiety?” he asked, gaze weirdly soft. 

Virgil sent thanks to whoever was looking out for him by making Princey jump to the completely wrong conclusion. 

As though to test his theory, Roman took a step forwards, and Virgil immediately resumed his struggling. _Yes, look at me, I’m terrified, don’t take me near the big bad Anxiety. _

Roman nodded firmly. “Very well. I will confront him at a later hour then, don’t you worry.” His stomach twisted at the thought, but that was a problem for later Virgil. Roman turned back to the stairs. “For now, I’m sure Patton will be simply ecstatic to see you again.” 

Virgil drooped at the thought. That’s right. He was still trapped here, whether or not they made the connection to his actual self. 

Roman glanced at him with that strange look in his eyes again, and carried him downstairs, where Patton and Logan were waiting. Patton sat up straight at the sight of him, grin nearly blinding. “You guys are back!” 

Roman returned the smile in full force. “We are indeed!”

“Does this mean that our unexpected visitor is staying, then?” Logan asked, carefully slotting a bookmark into his novel. 

Roman adjusted his grip on Virgil for a second, thinking. “Our journey was interrupted by most foul specters, so I did not have time to search everywhere, but…” 

He set Virgil down on Patton’s lap. “For now, I think it would be best to keep him here.” 

Patton cheered softly, hand hovering over Virgil’s head. On instinct, he butted his face against the fingers, and then froze. Patton simply smiled and carefully pet him, like one would a cat. He felt shame well up in him; how could he be taking advantage of their ignorance for a few measly touches? He was practically deceiving them at this point.

He pulled away slightly, leaning down to gnaw at the band again. 

Roman cleared his throat, drawing the attention of all three in the room. He was looking at Virgil again, and his heart rate somehow rose further. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what is that device on his leg?”

“Ah, that would be my doing,” Logan said, perking up. “The band is a simple tracker, so that we can be rest assured that it will not run off without us knowing.”

“A tracker?” Patton echoed, confused and a little worried.

Virgil leaned away from the cuff, worried now that they’d be angry at him for trying to get it off so obviously. Roman frowned.

“While I understand you had good intentions, I believe I should clarify that dragons are not simple animals. They normally are vicious and cunning creatures, but,” Roman shot a curious look down at the dragon in question, “in this case, I believe this one is smart without the cruelty.”

Virgil stared, eyes wide. Logan leaned forward, interested. “Are you saying it- _he_ is cognizant?” 

“Indeed, I am,” Roman confirmed. “He was a great help in warning me of enemies while in the Imagination, and he shows a range of emotions and understanding similar to us. As such, I don’t believe he would prefer to be… collared like a simple animal.” 

Virgil felt a surge of joy and disbelief. The last person he would have expected was giving him a chance to get out of this mess. 

Patton peered down at him with concerned eyes. “Aw, kiddo, is that true?” 

Virgil paused for a second, thinking. He couldn’t respond with a nod- that was too human and Roman was more perceptive than Virgil had given him credit for. He couldn’t act too different from what the creative side would expect from a dragon. Which was hard, seeing as he had only his own instincts to go off of. On the other hand, there was no way he would pass up the opportunity he had been offered to get this thing off.

In the end, he settled for biting at the cuff again, and then lifting it up towards Patton with a displeased whine. Patton turned to Logan, distressed, and the logical side raised a hand to stall the question before it was asked.

“Before you ask me to remove it, I would like to point out that it’s possible that he could become lost in the Mindscape. We know little to nothing about how well creatures from the Imagination will function here, since Roman did not conjure him directly. If that scenario came to pass, I imagine we would want to know where he had gone for his own safety.”

Patton hesitated, and Virgil narrowed his eyes at Logan. He was so close! It was his damn job to worry about everything that could go wrong, so why was Logan suddenly so concerned with it? He wouldn’t get lost in the Mindscape, he _lived_ here!

A muffled laugh from Patton interrupted him, and he paused, realizing that he had been making angry chittering sounds as he not-so-mentally ranted at Logan. He’d gotten carried away. It was lucky that he could only ‘speak’ in a strange mix of growls and clicks in this form, or else the jig really would have been up.

“I think he’s made his stance clear on the matter,” Roman said, badly concealing his amusement. Patton was still giggling, trying to smooth down the raised scales along Virgil’s back, and he let himself settle, melting slightly under the touch. Pathetic.

“I… see,” Logan said, awkwardly. “In that case… maybe a compromise? I can adjust the function so that the tracker doesn’t activate unless a concerning amount of time has passed since we last saw him?”

“That… might work,” Roman said, turning to look at Virgil inquisitively. “What say you, Toothful?” 

Virgil absentmindedly kneaded the blanket on Patton’s legs as he considered. He really just wanted this thing off him, but if he said no, would they leave the tracker on him permanently? Monitor his every move? That was one of the worst possible outcomes. If he agreed to the compromise, he just might be able to get the tracker off when he was back to normal, and then it was just a matter of never going out of his room in the wrong form ever again.

“Please, kiddo?” Patton asked, giving him an imploring look. “I don’t want you to go missing because I wanted you to stay with us!” 

Even if he couldn’t get the tracker off right away… It wouldn’t be that awful, to spend more time with them. Curl up and sleep in the comforting presence of others… Even if he didn’t deserve it, he couldn’t deny the appeal of spending time with the other Sides without all the distrust.

Mind made up, he carefully climbed out of Patton’s lap, making his way over to the arm of the couch and then leaping the short distance between it and Logan’s armchair. He concealed a wince as his injury protested the movement. Once he was stable, he held the leg with the band out to Logan, careful to keep his eyes averted. 

“I take it you would prefer the adjustment?” Logan asked, and he chirruped lowly at him, pushing his leg out further. “Very well.” 

He reached his hand up and delicately held Virgil’s clawed paw between two fingers, leaning in to fiddle with the cuff with his other hand. He couldn’t help but shift a bit nervously, but he reminded himself that they didn’t know who he was. They weren’t going to hurt him unprovoked unless they found out. He had to stop acting so… well, anxious. 

“There,” Logan said, returning to his normal straight-backed posture. “Now, the tracker will only activate after five days have passed without contact with one of us.” 

Five days. He’d make it work. 

He trilled lowly in thanks, and then sat there on the armrest, studying the three of them as they launched into conversation, apparently picking a movie. It was… different, when it was just the three of them. Not as tense. He felt a pang of guilt again, this time for the stress he put on everyone. He was trying his hardest to make sure everything ran smoothly, but in the end, he was Anxiety. It only made sense that they were more comfortable without him. 

Like this, though… They were happy, even though he was here. Maybe it wouldn’t be awful to spend more time in this form. Maybe.


	4. the one where everyone has a nice breakfast together

One movie later, Virgil somehow found himself curled up on the couch between Roman and Patton, slipping in and out of sleep to the bright tunes of the Lion King.

He woke fully, briefly freaking out because _everyone was big and why was he sleeping out here like this,_ as Roman turned the TV off and bid them goodnight. Logan must have left earlier, probably keeping to his typical strict curfew. He gave himself a moment to breathe deeply, and then lifted himself up into a stretch, hearing a few pops as he arched his back like a cat. Patton giggled softly from next to him.

“You tired, kiddo?” he asked, lifting a hand and running a thumb over the sloping horns by his ears. Virgil, still half-asleep, let out a soft coo not unlike a contented dove. Before he could be embarrassed, Patton cooed back, offering his hands again. 

“You wanna come sleep in my room for tonight?” he offered earnestly, and Virgil groaned internally. He couldn’t say no to that face, but in this form… he didn’t really have to. No reputation to uphold, other than his own pride. 

If it was any other side, he’d feel too guilty to take advantage when he wasn’t who they thought he was, but whenever Patton found him in the common area at an ungodly hour of the morning, he made the same offer. Always denied, obviously, but this was similar enough to be okay… right? 

Too tired to think on it any further, he crawled into Patton’s arms and struggled to keep his eyes open as they trekked down the hall to Patton’s room. 

Patton had clearly memorized the inside of his room, because he didn’t even turn on the lights before plopping down on the bed. It was ludicrously soft, and Virgil waited until Patton had pulled the covers over himself to burrow into a corner of the bed and curl up.

Now all he had to do was wait for Patton to- He looked up at the loud snore. Patton was already asleep. Deeply, going by his breathing. He shook his head, amused despite himself. 

Pulling himself up from the unfairly comfortable bed, he tried not to let Patton’s sleepiness affect him. He had to get back to his room. He’d been in this form for three days straight, and it was starting to make his head feel fuzzy. 

Hopping down from the bed on padded feet, he carefully made his way past any furniture, thankful that his night vision seemed to be intact. The door was cracked open, and he managed to slip through without Patton stirring. 

Everyone else was asleep, so he let himself break into a run as he bolted back towards his hall, his door, his room. He’d never spent so much consecutive time with the others before, generally choosing to leave when it became clear that his presence would only make things worse. The videos took some time, but he always made himself scarce afterwards so he could mull over everything that he did wrong in the privacy of his own room.

He nearly ran face first into the familiar black door, before feeling around with a paw and finding the cat-flap to push through. The familiarity of his room felt like stepping into a comfortable bath after the day he’d had, and before he knew it, his dragon form slipped away from him like sand through his fingers, leaving him sitting on the floor with his normal human legs. He sighed in relief, and then immediately realized that the cuff had vanished, no sign of it on his wrist. 

On one hand, that meant there was no chance the others could tie him to the dragon through it, which was good because not even his hoodie would be loose enough to effectively cover that bulky band. 

On the other, completely worse hand, this meant he wouldn’t be able to try and remove it until he turned into a dragon again. Oh god, what if the tracker led to the last place he was a dragon? He shook his head rapidly, trying to ride out the impending panic attack, and threw himself in bed. He was too exhausted for this. 

In what was definitely some hours but felt like no time at all, Virgil woke to the sound of banging on his door. He grimaced into his pillow, but the noise continued until he hauled himself out of bed and cracked open the door. “_What._” 

“Hey kiddo,” Patton said, eyes red-rimmed, and Virgil instantly felt terrible. He didn’t let himself ease up, though, because Roman was right at Patton’s shoulder, glaring. “It’s Sunday, so I thought I would ask if you wanted to come down and eat breakfast with us?” 

The weekly breakfasts were always an affair, the one meal Patton scheduled so they would be able to make it, no excuses. Virgil often skipped anyways, since sitting next to the other two sides who probably didn’t want him there with his stomach roiling too badly to eat wasn’t his idea of a great time. Patton kept knocking to invite him, though, every Sunday. 

He sighed. Patton already seemed upset about something, and that meant he’d be too worried about what it was to go back to sleep anyways. “Yeah…,” he said raspily, and cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’ll be down after I get ready.” 

Patton smiled brightly at him, cheered, and nodded. “I’ll go get started!” 

Virgil watched him head back downstairs, before going to close his door, but- 

“Not so fast, Doctor _Gloom._”

Virgil took a second too long to process the shoe blocking his door from closing, and dragged his gaze up to Roman. “What do you want, Princey.” He was too tired for the nickname game right now.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me. I know you were in the Imagination yesterday, using your loathsome creations to target me.” Roman shoved the door open further, gaze furious. “What did you do to him?” 

“What are you- _who?_” Virgil said, feeling a headache coming on. He’d known that Roman would confront him about the shades sooner or later, but he’d been hoping for later. It wasn’t like he manifested them on purpose, they just… happened whenever he went to the creative side’s realm. Downside of having your creative thoughts all be about who’s out to get you and how, he guessed. 

Roman growled impatiently.

“The dragon I was with when you sent your minions to attack me, Villain!”

His thoughts screeched to a halt. Roman was worried about _him?_ Well, dragon him, but still- what the hell? He was _literally_ a monster. “Dragon? I-” wait, no lying, “Why the hell would I care about something like that? I was in the Imagination for my own reasons. Try not to get too big a head.”

“Lies! I know you have tormented the dragon before, for he has shown most clearly that he is afraid of you,” Roman insisted, pushing further into Virgil’s space.

He leaned his full weight against the door to keep it steady, sneering face inches from Roman’s. “Maybe he’s just got better survival instincts than you.” 

“Then would you like to explain how he vanished overnight from Patton’s room, a clear beacon of safety?” Roman’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Why are you so desperately concealing your room if you have nothing to hide?” 

Nope. That was enough of that. They were _not_ looking in his room. 

“I didn’t touch a scale on your new little pet’s head,” he spat, releasing the door and moving to avoid Roman’s surprised stumble forwards. “Maybe he left because he was sick of dealing with your idiocy.” 

Without giving Roman time to recover, he shoved the prince back out the door hard enough to make him land on his ass with a shout of protest. “If you think I’m such a liar, why don’t you go ask Deceit if I messed with your lizard. Just keep me out of it.”

He slammed his door shut behind him, letting it lock firmly, and then strode past Roman with hunched shoulders. He couldn’t believe he’d knocked him over like that. His pace increased, steps hurried as he near skidded down the stairs. Roman wouldn’t do anything in front of Patton, right? 

He couldn’t help but check over his shoulder for pursuit as he got into the common area, which was probably why he nearly collided with Logan head-on.

“Shit!” he yelped, grabbing Logan by the shoulders to steady them both and then just as promptly tearing his hands away as though he’d been burned. He wasn’t a dragon anymore, they didn’t want him touching them. “Sorry, sorry. Wasn’t watching.”

“No harm done,” Logan responded, but he was watching Virgil with slightly narrowed eyes. “Anxiety, are you-“

“Fine,” he cut the logical side off brusquely, stepping to the side to walk around him. “Not impeding Thomas, don’t worry. That’s my job.” 

Logan turned to follow his movement, mouth open to say something else, but he was already bolting for the kitchen, berating himself internally. _Don’t worry, that’s my job_, he mocked himself. A joke. Really, Virgil? 

“Hey kiddo, you alright?” 

He looked over to where Patton was standing, hands working a waffle iron effortlessly. A beat late, he nodded, taking deeper breaths. 

“Y- eah, I’m good.” He winced at his own voice crack. Subject change time. “Uh… how about you?” 

Patton jerked his head up, surprised. Shit. Bad subject change. He forgot he was terrible at interacting without his asshole barrier up. “Nevermind, you don’t have to-”

“It’s okay!” He turned the waffle iron over, setting a timer before turning back to Virgil. “I’m just missing a new friend.”

Uh oh. “…Friend?” 

Patton smiled. “I think you would like him! He disappeared during the night though, so you can’t meet him right now.” 

His smile became a little watery. Goddamn it. 

“Uh, well. It’s only been a little bit, right? I’m sure he’ll come back,” he soothed, uncertainly. 

Patton perked up slightly. “You think so?” 

“…Yeah, I do,” he responded honestly, keeping the worst of the sigh from his voice. “Need help setting out breakfast?” 

“Aw, sure kiddo!” 

When he walked out of the kitchen, a plate in each hand, Roman was already there, speaking in exaggerated whispers to Logan. He shot a scathing glare at Virgil, opening his mouth to say something stupid, and then closed it again sharply as Patton walked out behind him.

Virgil gave him a smug smirk, ignoring his elevated heart rate. Roman mouthed the word ‘cheater’ at him as Patton turned to set a plate down, and just for that, Virgil put one of the plates he was carrying in front of Roman with a saccharine smile. The prince stared at him with blatant suspicion as he carried his own plate to his spot. 

He proceeded to enjoy the show, watching as Roman inspected each piece of food, face pinched. Patton picked up on it, naturally, and asked if something was wrong. Roman was quick to assure him that his cooking was as wonderful as ever, and took a bite to prove it, face pale. 

Once enough time had passed that he could reasonably assume it wasn’t a fast acting poison, he glowered at Virgil and started eating in earnest, the conversation picking up again. Virgil picked at his food as they chattered, letting it all wash over him. 

Until the conversation turned to him.

“-is there anywhere you haven’t checked, Patton?” Logan was asking, a notebook in his lap.

“I can’t think of anywhere I haven’t already looked! On the fridge, under the bed, in the closet- and you know I don’t go in there lightly.”

“I can think of somewhere,” Roman growled, glaring at Virgil. He returned the look twofold. 

“Oh, you can think? Color me surprised,” he snarked back, and then Logan chimed in.

“Ah, that’s right. We searched our rooms, but not Anxiety’s.” 

Virgil couldn’t help but tense, and Patton hurried to intervene, “Well, we don’t want to invade his privacy, do we now?” 

Logan blinked. “Of course not. I was simply implying that we should ask Anxiety if he had seen anything strange that would indicate a small dragon’s passage or presence.”

He pretended to consider for a moment. “Nope,” he responded, popping the P, “can’t say that I have.” 

“Darn!” Patton said.

“Back to the drawing board, then.” Logan nodded, turning back to his notebook. 

For a moment, Virgil and Roman stared at him with equal amounts of incredulity. 

“What, you’re just gonna take his word for it?” Roman protested, a beat late. 

“… Yes? Why wouldn’t we?” The logical side looked up, a bit annoyed.

“Because he’s an untrustworthy _scoundrel?_” 

“Roman!” Patton scolded, frowning in a way that made Roman wilt.

“That is not the case, though I understand that you believe as much due to Anxiety’s many negative effects on Thomas.” Logan chimed in as well. 

“Ouch.” Virgil muttered under his breath. Still, it wasn’t like he was wrong. 

“Still, Roman, there’s no reason for Anxiety to lie to us. It’s not in his nature, and there are no logical reasons to draw a connection between the absence of the dragon and Anxiety, beyond your rather blatant dislike of him.” 

“And with that,” Virgil cut in, seeing his opportunity, “I’m leaving.” 

Patton reached out and Logan frowned for some reason, but he cut off their protests preemptively. “No, if all we’re going to do is talk about how much everyone doesn’t like me and what I do, I’ll just wait until Thomas summons us for the next video.” 

Shit. That came out too… emotions-y. He threw his hood up and sunk out before they could say anything else, but it wasn’t quick enough to miss the triumphant expression Roman wore. A flare of anger rose up in his chest and was just as quickly extinguished. He deserved as much after interrupting Logan and probably upsetting Patton by leaving so abruptly. This was why he didn’t go to the goddamn breakfasts. 

He thought about Patton’s eyes rubbed red around the edges, and the stomach-churning fear he’d felt after even the smallest confrontation with Roman. The way Logan detachedly stated that he was hurting Thomas, like it was a fact. He tried to take a breath, but his lungs felt as though they were being compressed, and his head was ringing. His vision spotted black for a moment, and when it cleared up, everything was huge around him.

Oddly enough, though he still felt bad, a lot of the physical symptoms he normally felt were… faded, almost diminished in this form. Overwhelmed by the other set of instincts that overlapped with his own. Strange.

Too busy wallowing in his own misery to overthink for once, he padded out of his own room and straight to Patton’s, curling up on one of the plush pillows to wait for the moral side to get back. 

At least like this, he could offer something positive to someone. 


	5. the one where virgil gets a kind of sucky friendship bracelet

The days went on, and settled into a steady rhythm, just how Virgil liked it. 

He’d spend the day with the others in his smaller form, sitting on laps, curled up against someone’s side, or tucked into the crook of their elbow as they went about their day, occasionally dragged into whatever event they planned up. He started leaning into touches instead of away, letting himself croon or chirp or purr when no mocking words came, sometimes even following the others into their rooms and simply spending time with them as they engaged in what they loved. 

It made it all the more jarring whenever he ran into them at night, as Anxiety, the dark side they had to be wary of. But it was better than nothing, and as pathetic as he was, he’d take it.

Luckily, after the first couple of times he vanished in the middle of the night, they stopped being so worried when he mysteriously vanished, and though the cuff remained, there was no more talk of tracking. Almost every night, he’d leave on his own to go back to his room, and spend the night making sure everything was running smoothly with Thomas. Once the morning came and the others woke up, he’d focus on those feelings of shame and fear that seemed so far away in his dragon form and force himself back into that state of odd disconnect. He found it became easier and easier with practice. 

The routine didn’t make for much consistent sleep, but he’d never gotten much of that anyhow. He caught naps among the company of the other sides, and they were deep and dreamless. 

Patton took some convincing, since he seemed worried about Anxiety’s suddenly more reclusive behavior. He managed to catch him up baking in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, and after firmly telling him that he was fine, just feeling like he needed more time to himself, Patton let it go. 

It probably helped that he’d kept his hood up for that conversation; the bags under his eyes seemed to get a little deeper every time he changed back. No matter how calm and almost… content he felt when in that form, as soon as he turned back, his negative emotions seemed to cascade down on him. It was what kept him changing back every night. He was worried that the longer he spent in that form, the more severe the pushback would be. 

He already suspected it was affecting Thomas, too, occasionally keeping him up late with haunting thoughts. He didn’t want to make it any worse. Despite what the others thought, he could do his job without being cruel. It was just… easier to act tough when the person you loved the most was scared at the sight of you. 

Anyways, everything was easier to manage like this. He could keep an eye on things the others were up to, and even if his effect on Thomas seemed a bit diluted in this form, it was still present. 

Even if Patton was sometimes too grabby, or Roman too loud, or Logan too interested in his anatomy, they always backed off when he expressed his displeasure. It was… different, being listened to. 

He could do without the nickname, though.

“Puff!” Patton cheered, scooping him off the back of the couch where he had been idly considering the merits of hoarding quarters. “Hey, where’d you go, little guy! We missed you!” 

Virgil flicked his ears back, lifting his snout up as if to say _‘let a dragon have his secrets, won’t you?’_ Patton giggled, and as always, didn’t press. “Well, welcome back! I think Roman wanted to hang out with you today, would you like a lift?”

He clicked absently in agreement and climbed up Patton’s arm to his shoulder, relishing the tallness. Patton chuckled and started over to Roman’s hall, Virgil shifting his weight to stay steady as he walked. 

“Knock knock!” Patton said, poking his head in past Roman’s partially open door. 

“Padre! And Puff!” Roman grinned good-naturedly at Virgil’s huff. The nickname was his fault, and he admitted it proudly. Patton smiled, and then jumped slightly as a timer’s ‘ding’ sounded from the kitchen. 

“Oh, I have to go get those out to cool! I’ll be in the kitchen if you two need anything!” 

Virgil ducked his head in a slight nod, and then leaped from Patton to Roman, making the latter shriek in alarm for a moment by using his head as a landing pad. He scrambled for balance, careful to keep his claws sheathed as Roman reached up to grab him. 

“Little fiend!” He said, waving goodbye to an amused Patton. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Virgil groomed his foreleg, ignoring both Roman and the way his words made his heart jump strangely. The creative side chuckled. 

“Well, you have perfect timing, for I have just finished crafting your gift!” 

He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. A gift? What kind of gift? This was new. 

He wasn’t kept in anticipation for long, as Roman set him down on his broad crafting table and offered him a circle woven of multiple threads. It was big enough to fit as a loose necklace on him, meaning it was about bracelet-sized for Roman. He ducked his head through it, curious, as Roman began to explain. 

“It’s a charmed charm! Designed to conceal all traces of your presence from Anxiety.” 

A thrum of alarm passed through him, but the charm was already on, and the fear washed away like sidewalk chalk in the rain. If he’d thought things were muted before, it was nothing compared to now. The room didn’t seem so scary anymore, colors just slightly shifted, and he had the urge to go investigate the more shiny objects laying around. He shook his head slightly. This wasn’t right. What was he doing, again? 

The charmed bracelet shifted at the movement. Oh, that’s right. He wanted it off, for some reason. Couldn’t remember why, but it wasn’t particularly easy to look at when it was on him. If it was well-made, he could find a nice place to hide it away. Mind made up, he carefully pawed the bracelet back over his head, and-

The world snapped back into clarity, and Virgil dropped the charm with a stuttering gasp. That… had almost been very bad. He hadn’t even felt like himself, like the distance of his dragon form multiplied by a thousand. 

“Puff? You okay?” Roman was leaning over, concerned. 

Virgil crooned a reassurance at him automatically, ears slightly flattened. He could tell a lot of work had been put into this. How was he going to get out of wearing this without rejecting it? Maybe he could just wear it despite the effects…? No, even the thought made him shudder.

He picked the bracelet up in his mouth, proffering it to Roman insistently until he lowered his hand to take the gift back, a little disheartened. Virgil immediately shoved the bracelet over onto his wrist instead, insistently pulling it along until it was firmly stuck on the creative side’s arm. 

Almost immediately, Roman became a bit blurrier to his eyes, more washed out. If he tried to focus, he found that his gaze would slip right off as though Roman wasn’t there. Still, there was apparently enough of a change from ‘Anxiety’ in this form that Roman’s charm didn’t fully register him. In his normal form, Roman would probably be almost entirely invisible to him. He’d have to be more careful.

“What- Puff, this is for you, not me.” Roman said, and Virgil shook his head stubbornly. Something in Roman’s face softened, an expression that he couldn’t quite read. He reached over and ran a thumb along the scales on the back of Virgil’s head, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, ear twitching. 

“I appreciate your concern, little dragon, but I have no need of this charm. As a dashing prince, it’s only natural that I can hold my own against villains like Anxiety.” 

Virgil ducked out from under the hand, shooting him a glare. Maybe he would win in a fair fight, but ’villains’ didn’t fight fair like Roman did. It was the whole reason he caught the creative side off guard and shoved him before. The idiot should be more wary, honestly. 

(He ignored the familiar bitter pang of hurt at the implication that he would try to hurt Roman. Argue with, always. But hurt? Never. That was the opposite of his purpose.) 

Roman sighed fondly. “Very well, if it will make you feel better. As long as you remain in range of me, it should serve its purpose either way.” 

Virgil tilted his head in query. Roman grinned and offered an arm for him to scale. “We’re going to go to the Imagination once more today!” 

Virgil, who had been in the process of climbing up to his shoulder, nearly toppled over as he reared back, giving Roman an incredulous look and a startled squawk. 

“Easy!” Roman laughed, steadying him with a hand. “I want you to experience my realm as a place of freedom and joy, not fear. The charm will keep us hidden from any specters Anxiety might create, I promise you that, on my honor.” 

Maybe it was the charm. Maybe it was just that he’d never had the opportunity to be in the Imagination without constantly looking over his shoulder, fearing attack. Maybe he just felt a little reckless. Regardless of reasoning, Virgil found himself climbing back up to Roman’s shoulder and hesitantly chirping his assent. 

The bright grin of the creative side made it feel worth it.

In no time at all, they were making their way through the entrance to the Imagination, Roman setting the location somewhere ‘easy’ to start. 

The quiet autumn woods they emerged into were peaceful, the sun overhead and a light breeze rustling through the leaves. 

“So, what do you think?” Roman gestured, as though he was presenting a shining gold castle instead of an admittedly beautiful forest. Virgil tilted his head consideringly, and then turned up his nose. Roman snorted. “Oh, not good enough for you, Spitfire?” 

Roman started off through the woods, narrating the many flora and fauna he had created for this section of the Mindscape as Virgil settled himself in the crook of his elbow. He found himself relaxing more than he ever had in the Imagination before, for once not haunted by the feeling of being pursued. He pushed his face against Roman’s hand and let the soothing vibrations of his voice rumble around him as they walked. 

Naturally, it couldn’t last. 

He knew something was wrong from the moment Roman’s voice abruptly cut off, but he didn’t start panicking until he heard the side unsheathe his sword. He didn’t sense any of the shades, not even on the peripheral, and the charm was working, so what? Had he given himself away somehow? Was Roman going to-

“Well, well, well.” A melodious voice echoed around them, and Virgil stiffened. “What are the odds, running into you here?” 

_“Dragon Witch.”_ Roman gritted out, raising a hand to hover over Virgil protectively. “Nobody invited you to this party.” 

A rustling from above, and Virgil watched as a figure appeared above them, leaning against a sturdy branch. Their features were obscured by a white plague doctor’s mask, and they wore a cloak comprised of rattling scales. Dragon scales. 

“Come now, Disney connoisseur. You know what happens when you forget to invite the most powerful of them all… you get _cursed_.” 

Roman spat something back, but Virgil was distracted by the slightest movement of that uncanny mask, and the immediate certainty that he was being watched. 

“Oh? What’s this?” The Dragon Witch hopped down from the tree boroughs, landing mere meters away. Roman immediately hiked his sword up. 

“Back off!” 

A laugh split the air. “Oh, so you’re defending a dragon now, noble prince? Seems a bit out of character for you to defend one of my kin, hmm?” 

Roman scowled, retreating a step as they drew closer. Their cloak rattled, and Virgil felt his own scales rise like an angry cat’s hackles. “Puff is different. Keep away, I’m warning you!”

“Hah.” They suddenly sounded unamused, sending a chill down Virgil’s spine. “Well, let’s see how long you’ll believe that when I… _even the odds_ a bit.” 

Before the last word was uttered, they were moving. Roman cursed, and threw himself back, rolling and popping back up to his feet. Virgil dug into his sleeve with his claws, desperately trying to hang on as he kept an eye on the blur that was the Dragon Witch. He cried out a warning too late, and their sharp talons tore through Roman’s other sleeve, dying it red. 

Roman immediately lashed out with his sword, but instead of pressing their advantage, the Dragon Witch withdrew completely, retreating until they stood halfway across the clearing. Virgil hissed at them, teeth bared in a useless gesture. 

“Since you’re so fond of that tiny runt, I’m sure you’ll agree he deserves a prince to match.” 

Roman leaned over heavily, and Virgil yelped and jumped from his arm, twisting as soon as he hit the ground to both click at Roman in concern and keep the Dragon Witch in view. 

The creative side looked pale, stumbling a bit as though dizzy, and before Virgil could do anything, there was an almost cartoonish poof of smoke around him. 

When the smoke cleared, Roman had vanished. 

No, not vanished, Virgil realized as a small shout of alarm sounded in front of him. Roman was just… almost proportionate to him now, standing at around three inches to Virgil’s six. He was tiny, gripping his sword with white knuckles. They stared at each other, stunned. 

“Now,” the Dragon Witch said gleefully, voice layered with magic. “Why don’t you show this prince exactly where he belongs on the food chain!”


	6. the one where virgil is finally taller than someone

Virgil took a step forward without even meaning to, and then jerked to a stop as Roman skittered back like a frightened deer. He wilted slightly, but tried not to take it personally. He knew better than anyone how scary being suddenly small could be. 

“Puff? Don’t- Don’t let them control you!” Roman’s sword faltered back and forth, face contorted with an odd mixture of anguish and fear. 

Virgil narrowed his eyes, casting a glance at the Dragon Witch. Control him? As if. Roman was tiny, in danger, and afraid. There was virtually nothing that could stop him from doing his damn job, and absolutely nothing that would make him actually attack Roman. 

Meters away, the Dragon Witch shifted impatiently. “I _said_, give the prince a taste of what dragons are really like, runt.”

Once again, the compulsion to move, to rend and tear, filled his mind for a heartbeat before being shunted away at the speed of light. He’d have to be a jackass to make this work, but he’d already proved himself capable of that in the name of protecting his people. 

A beat late, he started forward again, his gait now distinctly menacing. He thought of what could have happened if the Dragon Witch had used this spell on Roman when he was alone, and a low growl started up in his throat. Roman’s face crumpled as he started taking careful steps back, sword raised in a barely-steady hand.

“Puff, _please_. Don’t make me fight you.” He pleaded, raising his other hand defensively. Virgil continued to move, matching the prince’s retreat step for step. 

Until Roman stumbled over a stray branch, his sword dipping slightly for a moment, and Virgil lunged. 

That sword wasn’t all for show, of course, and Roman lashed it at him as he knocked the small side over, but with all the adrenaline flooding his system he had no idea whether the blow had landed. Didn’t really matter. He ducked his head down, and carefully latched his teeth onto the back of that cheesy outfit, lifting him up like a scruffed kitten with ease. 

The moment he was sure Roman was secure in his grip, he bolted, sprinting away for all he was worth. Behind them, a startled and then enraged shriek came from the Dragon Witch, but if there was one thing he knew, it was how to hide. 

He ducked between the long shadows cast by the late afternoon sun, mind set on finding a secure place to hide and nothing else. It could have been minutes or hours before he found the small cave carved into the wall of a cliff face, but all that really mattered was that he had found it. 

Clawing up the small jump to get into it, he made sure it was deep enough to hide them from view before finally releasing the death grip he had on Roman. He immediately switched gears to sniff at him instead, searching out any possible injuries.

The tiny side shoved him back, eyes a little wild with panic, and Virgil retreated. Right. He’d forgotten that he’d been fake-threatening Roman before. 

“Puff?” He asked, searching his eyes intently.

Virgil scooted back to give him some space, before carefully lowering his head to settle onto the floor, trying to be as non threatening as possible. It made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable, but he probably deserved any retaliation after the scare he’d given Roman, and he probably wouldn’t kill him, right? 

Before he could get himself worked up about the possibility, Roman sat down, letting out a deep breath. “You’re… still you, right? For realsies?” 

Virgil huffed impatiently at his hesitance, and more of the tension leaked from Roman’s frame. 

“Okay… okay. I believe you. Are you alright?” 

Virgil blinked. Was he? He stood up, turning in a circle to inspect himself, and then froze at Roman’s gasp. What, did he move too fast and scare him again?

“Puff, your side!” A delicate touch pressed against his left ribcage, and his ears flattened at the sudden sting. 

Huh. Guess the sword had gotten him after all. 

He laid back down, feeling too crowded in the small enclave otherwise, and rumbled at Roman reassuringly. It felt pretty shallow, it would be fine. Probably.

Roman looked at him with a stricken expression. “I… hurt you. You were only trying to protect me and I… I could have seriously injured you!” 

Virgil grumbled a disagreement. Roman was like half his size. He had scales and stuff, he was fine.

“Don’t you try and say otherwise!” Roman demanded, despite the fact that Virgil wasn’t really saying anything. He inhaled sharply, as though about to go on a self recriminatory tangent, and Virgil decided that no, he’d had enough of those. 

Without another sound, he padded over and curled his non-injured side around Roman, finding that at this size, he could comfortably curl up into a ball with the creative side tucked against him. Roman spluttered at being interrupted, and Virgil draped a wing over him, teasingly muting his protest.

“Fine, fine! But we’re going home, and getting you treated.” 

A loud crack echoed from outside, and they turned to see it had begun to storm while Roman was preoccupied by being a dunce. 

“When… that clears up, I guess.” Roman frowned, drawing closer to Virgil seemingly without realizing. He chirped in agreement, and settled his head back down to wait. After the earlier panic, he was happy to be a shield between Roman and the rest of the world for as long as needed. 

For a few minutes, there was only the sound of heavy rain and rolling thunder.

“They can control dragons, y’know.” Roman said, drawing Virgil out of his sleepiness. “The Dragon Witch. That’s why I… when they ordered you…” He trailed off. 

Virgil remembered the compulsion magic, but it hadn’t gripped all of him. It was almost reassuring; despite his appearance, he was still him, not a dragon. He turned his nose up dramatically for Roman’s sake, as if to dismiss the magic as insignificant. Roman chuckled softly.

“You’re really something else, Puff. Sometimes I think you’re not even really a dragon.”

Virgil froze, despite having just thought the same thing. If Roman figured it out… He felt his stomach sink. It wasn’t even really about the fact that he was a monster to be slayed anymore. There was something new he had with Roman, with all three of the Light Sides, and he desperately didn’t want to lose it. 

The moment of silence stretched on agonizingly, before Roman laughed again, a bit more genuine this time. 

“It’s okay, Puff. You’re special, you don’t have to tell me why.” A pause, as Virgil tried to process that. “I… apologize for being unable to protect you. For making you protect me.”

Virgil couldn’t tell him that if this were a fairytale, he’d be cast as the villain anyways, so there was no reason to apologize. He couldn’t tell him that he was supposed to protect Roman, couldn’t harangue him for being so insistent on taking everything on alone.

All he could do was curl himself tighter around Roman, and let himself purr loud enough to drown out the thunder. 

When the sky finally cleared, Roman was drooling from his position sprawled out against Virgil’s side. He snorted. Prince Charming, to be sure. The guy was out cold.

He ever so carefully lifted the wing he had left laid over the side like a blanket, and then slapped it back down on him, jolting him awake. 

“Hwagh?!” Roman said, jerking upright.

Virgil smacked him again for good measure. _Rise and shine, Sir Sings-A-Lot. _

“Augh, stop your assault on my person, you fiend!” Roman rolled out from under his wing, sending him a petulant glare. He chirruped smugly, and proceeded to stretch obnoxiously as Roman moved to gather his belongings. 

The sky outside was grey, but the only sign of the storm was the lingering petrichor. Roman looked at his hand, minuscule against the backdrop, and sighed. 

“At this size, it will take ages to return to our entry portal. Normally, I could shift it closer, but… this form seems to have more disadvantages than mere size reduction.” 

Virgil looked at Roman consideringly. It should be doable at this size, and there was a soft blanket of leaves and other forest mulch in case he fucked up, so… 

“What? What are you looking aaaAAAAAHHH PUFF NO!” 

Roman hollered in protest as Virgil pushed him forwards towards the opening of the cave, grabbing Roman’s shoulders and then launching them both out into the open air. 

He almost lost at the beginning, the difference in weight making them plunge for a moment- and making Roman screech at an ear-splitting pitch- before he flapped hard, managing to regain his balance in the air.

There. Easy as pie. 

It was a bit difficult for him to trace their path backwards from such a different perspective, but luckily after Roman had finished yelling, he begrudgingly helped guide Virgil back to their doorway. 

He stumbled a bit on the landing, but managed to drop Roman only half an inch off the ground, so he counted it as a win. From there, they walked through to the familiar halls of their home in the Mindscape. 

Roman craned his head back, trying to take in how large everything was. “I… have no idea where we are. Everything looks so _different!_”

It was a little funny, that Virgil was used to this perspective by now. Hell, sometimes he got a little disoriented waking up big. 

“Wait.” Roman seemed to realize something. “Why hasn’t the spell worn off yet? Enchantments are usually limited to the realm they’re cast in.” 

That sounded like a problem Virgil had no idea how to solve. Good thing he had other people to depend on in this form! He grabbed Roman’s sash, lifting him up yet again, and began trotting down the hall towards the lounge. 

“Hey! Puff? Where are we going?” Roman called, nervously. 

Virgil purred lightly to reassure him, and then began carefully making his way down the stairs. Luckily, the others were already in the lounge area, Logan undoubtedly lured out by the smell of whatever pastry Patton had been baking. 

“Puff, wait- I don’t want them to see- !”

“Did you say something, Lo?” 

Roman went silent and still, and Virgil realized that he was probably hearing their voices from this size for the first time. He slowed, still mostly hidden by the bannister of the stairs, and set the creative side down, watching as he leaned against a stair for support, breathing hard. He motioned towards the others with his head, flicking his ears back and forth. _They’ll help._

“They… they shouldn’t see me like this. We should go back, I’m certain it will wear off eventually.” Roman said, voice layered with false confidence. 

Virgil stared at him, unimpressed, and Roman opened his mouth again before abruptly paling. 

“Puff? Kiddo, that you?” 

Virgil twisted around, seeing that Patton was now standing at the foot of the stairs, only a couple of feet away. He evidently hadn’t been as well hidden as he’d thought. Whoops. 

He shifted slightly, flaring his wings a bit to hide Roman’s crouched form from view, and then chirruped a greeting. Patton smiled. 

“Hey, little guy! What are you doing all the way over here? I made some cinnamon rolls for my _son_-namon rolls!” 

“Not your best.” Logan called out from his chair. 

“But you still ate them!” Patton responded cheerily, ignoring Logan’s displeased silence. 

Virgil shifted uneasily, but before he could really formulate a plan of action, he felt a tiny form duck under his wing. Patton’s eyes went wide as saucers, and Virgil looked down at Roman with his own surprise, resisting the urge to shift his wing and re-conceal him. 

The three-inch figure was standing up, stiff-backed, right in front of Patton. He summoned up a strained smile, tilting his head back to meet Patton’s gaze as though nothing was wrong. 

“Hey, Padre.” 


	7. the one where they accidentally snuggle

Patton covered his mouth with his hands, stunned for a moment. Virgil was reminded of the first time he’d run into the moral side at this size; was this just how Patton reacted to all small and cute things?

He clicked at Patton, reminding him to breath, and then leaned forwards a little protectively as he burst into a flurry of questions. 

“Roman? Oh my goodness, what happened to you? Are you alright?” 

Roman waved his hands to stop his questions. “Woah, Patton, I’m fine. Just a little… littler.”

Virgil snorted, and Roman side eyed him. “In fact, Puff is the one you should be worried about. He has a scratch along his side.” 

Patton turned his concerned dad gaze onto Virgil, and he squinted at Roman, betrayed. _Snitch! _

“Oh no! We’ll get that fixed up right away, little buddy!”

“What’s going on?” A voice from a few paces back made everyone but Patton jump. Virgil tilted his head back to look at Logan, who only took a moment to spot the tiny anomaly among the group. 

“Roman? Is that truly you? How-” Seemingly lost in thought, he knelt next to Patton on the stairs and reached out to wrap his hand around the small side. 

Virgil took half a second to process the way Roman’s smile fractured, his hands lifting as though to ward Logan off, and without any further thought, he lunged forwards, teeth snapping shut an inch from the logical side’s fingertips. Logan yanked his hand back with a startled “Ah!” 

“Puff!” Patton scolded, and he flattened his wings to make himself a smaller target but refused to move from his new position standing protectively above Roman. Just in case that wasn’t clear enough, he growled softly at Logan. _No grabbing. Disallowed._

“Woah, Puff, it’s- it’s okay-” Roman tried, and Virgil snorted. He knew firsthand that being grabbed was not fun, and since it was pretty much his fault Roman was stuck like this in the first place, he wasn’t leaving him alone that easy.

“It’s alright, I don’t believe his intent was to injure me. My apologies, Puff.” Logan cut in, hands carefully at his sides. “I was merely surprised, and acted thoughtlessly.” 

Virgil settled back a little at the reassurance, ignoring the shock that came with being apologized to, _genuinely,_ twice in one day.

“Okay, well, before we can sort out all of this, we’ve got to handle that injury!” Patton interjected, reminding them of the task at hand. 

“Of course. I will go retrieve the first aid kit.” Logan stood up, and Patton offered his hands to Virgil. He looked down at Roman for a moment, and once he got a nod, climbed up to sit in the crook of Patton’s arm. 

“Um… Do you want a lift, kiddo?” Patton hesitated before setting his hand down on the stair Roman was on. The tiny side stared at it for a long moment before looking up at Virgil and seeming to gather himself. He stepped onto Patton’s hand, and then settled himself into the center of it, before giving them a hearty thumbs up. 

Patton grinned and stood, lifting the other two carefully up with him, before walking over to the couch and setting them down on the small table in front of it. Roman stumbled slightly as he slid off the side of Patton’s palm, and Virgil hopped down to sit next to him. 

“There we go!”

“I have the kit.” Logan announced, descending the stairs to set it down on the table next to them. “What sort of injury are we dealing with?” 

“It’s a cut.” Roman informed him, already more at ease despite his size. Virgil was impressed. It’d taken him a lot longer to adapt fully. “Shallow, but long.” 

“Antiseptic, stat.” 

Patton, now wearing a nurse’s cap, handed him a little canister, and Virgil settled down onto his haunches for treatment, sighing. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, easily ignored. 

…Still, it was nice that they cared. 

One dramatic session of nursemaid later, Virgil’s side was carefully padded with gauze and taped over, which left them finally free to discuss the matter of Roman’s predicament. Roman himself had taken to standing on top of a tissue box to be taller, which everyone graciously didn’t comment on. 

“The curse shouldn’t have lasted this long. It has to be something beyond the Dragon Witch that is interfering with my size now.” Roman hummed. “The Dark Sides, maybe?” 

Virgil flicked an ear, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Logan seemed to agree that it was unlikely, raising an eyebrow before scribbling something in the notebook he’d been writing Roman’s rather dramatized account in. He stood, drawing everyone’s attention.

“While I have a few hypotheses, I believe it would be most useful for me to look into this matter further. I will return to my room to continue researching, so please inform me if things change.” 

“Alright, seeya Lo!” Patton waved, and looked to the other two. “What do you two say to a movie marathon in the meantime?” He offered brightly. “Relaxing might do you some good!” 

“That… does sound nice- woah!” Roman admitted, and Virgil grabbed his shirt before jumping to the couch and settling into the cushion next to Patton. “Yeesh, warn a guy!” 

Virgil stuck his tongue out, curling up and facing the TV as Patton put in one of Roman’s many Disney movies. He glanced briefly down as Roman sat himself right against him, where he’d been before in the cave, and managed to not snort. Anxiety, feared Dark Side. Demoted to chair. 

He draped his wing over him as a blanket anyways. 

Patton left them after the third movie, yawning and whispering confidentially to Virgil that he would be up to make pancakes in the morning. By the fourth, they were both barely conscious. Virgil snapped awake a couple of times after almost losing track of Roman’s form because of the bracelet. Eventually, figuring the creative side didn’t really have to worry about Anxiety when he was busy using him as a beanbag, he carefully pulled the band off Roman’s wrist, tucking it under his other wing. Roman’s only reaction was to mumble something ridiculous in his sleep. 

By the fifth movie, they were both out like rocks.

When Virgil woke up, the menu music for Hercules was playing on loop, and Roman was back to his normal size. More concerningly, _so was Virgil._

He instinctively pulled on the feeling of utter panic, trying to grasp his other form, but nothing happened. What the hell? 

Roman shifted, and he held his breath until the faint crease in the other side’s brow faded. Somehow, they’d ended up sprawled across the whole couch, with half of Roman slouched on top of him. He grit his teeth. Of course. 

Okay, okay. He just had to carefully maneuver his way out of this mess. Roman was a heavy sleeper, right? 

He carefully began shifting his body off the couch inch by inch, slowly untangling their legs and prying Roman’s hand off his hoodie. There were a couple of close calls where Roman would sleepily shift over to try and regain the meager warmth Virgil must have been providing, but eventually he managed to slide to the floor. 

Finally. He stood up, ignoring the twinges in his joints, and shoved his hands in his pockets, immediately finding a small charm bracelet in them. He looked at Roman for a long moment, considering. If he was small, and wearing that bracelet while Virgil was around… he shivered. He could accidentally crush him! The bracelet would stay with him for now.

Mind made up, he padded over to the TV to turn off the slightly grating menu music. As the screen went black, something pulled painfully on his side, and he pulled his hoodie up slightly to see a familiar bandage stretched over his side. Huh.

Well, he could always peel it off once he was safely back in his room- 

“Puff?” 

Virgil jumped into the air like a startled cat, landing about three feet away from the couch and TV. “_JEEzus, _Princey!” 

Roman frowned sleepily from where he had sat up on the couch. “… Anxiety? What?”

Shit. Excuse time. “You have to get through here to get to the kitchen.” He blurted. Roman stared at him blankly, and he scowled. “Yeah, newsflash, idiot. I live here, too.”

Roman’s frown deepened, and he looked down at himself, probably remembering that he’d been way smaller last time he’d been conscious, and Virgil stalked around the couch to get to the kitchen, a bit irritated he hadn’t thought of a better excuse to get the hell out of here. 

“Halt!” Roman called, and Virgil groaned internally at the return of his trademark Prince voice. 

He turned. “What.” 

Roman was twisted around to face him over the back of the couch, and his expression wasn’t promising. “Where’s Puff?” 

Virgil stared at him with an eyebrow raised, hoping to convey his level of unimpressed. “Who, your lizard? It’s not my job to keep track of him.” 

“He was just here, why would he leave? You are acting incredibly shady; Turn your pockets out!” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, tugging his hands out of his hoodie to display how very empty it was, apart from the tiny bracelet which he carefully did not share. “You think I smuggled him out of your grasp like a piece of candy? Honestly, I couldn’t care less about whatever new pet you clueless idiots have gotten yourself.” 

He turned to leave, and Roman shouted. “Hey! I’m not finished with you, villain!” 

Virgil felt his temper flare, and he shot a glower over his shoulder. “Yeah, well, I’m finished with you, asshole. Your lizard probably got sick of you too.” He lied through his teeth.

Roman reeled back for a moment, and then a blink later, vanished from sight. Virgil froze in disbelief, hearing a small ‘oof’ as a no doubt shrunken Roman landed on the couch, out of sight. He’d- Did he just make Roman shrink again? 

For a long moment, there was a stretch of silence, and Virgil realized that with how Roman had reacted to the others, Anxiety was the last person he wanted to see at this side. He just had to go to the kitchen, get out, and come back as Puff ASAP. 

He sighed loudly. “Sinking out of an argument, real mature.” 

There was a tiny exhale of relief from the couch, barely perceptible. 

Careful not to step too loudly, Virgil walked into the kitchen, hurrying to rifle through the cabinets and grab something. As long as Roman stayed put long enough for him to get out of sight-

A tiny cry of pain from the living room derailed his thoughts entirely. He dropped his poptarts, scrambling back out into the living room. “Roman?!” 

There was no response, which was not reassuring at all. He speedwalked over to the couch, watching the floor under his feet carefully. He spotted Roman instantly. 

The small side was half-limping under the couch like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to scare the smaller side, but… Letting him crawl around on the floor where anyone could step on him? Uh, _no._

Virgil knelt down, setting his hand in front of the gap under the couch to stop his progress. “Roman? What the hell happened to you?” 

Roman tumbled back, and made a squeak of pain as he put weight on his ankle. Virgil winced, moving to try and offer him support, but Roman immediately started scooting himself back.

“No! Don’t touch me!” He yelled, his voice cracking angrily. Virgil stopped dead, before slowly leaning back.

“Yikes, okay. Look, not touching. Did you fuck up your ankle?” 

“What do you care?” Roman spat, still watching his hands with a keen gaze. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Gonna take that as a yes. Look, I’m pretty sure there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen. You gonna let me pick you up or what?”

Roman eyed him with the suspicion and alarm of a cat next to a cucumber. “I think not. I can make it there perfectly fine on my own.” 

Virgil stared at him, and then leaned back. “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

“You can leave.”

He inspected his nails. “Nah, I don’t think so.” 

Roman sighed, aggrieved, and started walking across the plush carpet.

He got exactly five steps before his good foot tangled in the threads and he ate dirt. Virgil counted.

“That looked painful.” He commented offhandedly. 

“You look painful.” Roman growled, and slowly got back to his feet. Virgil sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

“Would it help if I got one of the others, or something-“ 

“No!” Roman scowled up at him. “I’ve bothered them enough.” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you don’t care about bothering me?” 

“Of course not. _You_ bother Thomas.” Roman said, very matter-of-fact. 

“Succinct.” Virgil muttered, and set his hand down next to Roman again. “Then hurry up and bother me, already. Or are you chicken?” 

Roman shot him a dirty look, but the insult seemed to put him more at ease. He stared at Virgil’s hand for a heartbeat longer, and then climbed on with stilted motions. 

“Fine. Get me to the counter, then, Emo Nightmare.”

Virgil snorted, lifting his hand slowly to his chest before standing. “Who am I, your chauffeur?” 

“Don’t fret, I tip very well.” Roman bantered back absently, staring down at the floor below with worry. Virgil wished he’d thought to put his other hand up as an extra safety measure, but with his luck, Roman would think he was trying to trap him.

“In what, bad nicknames? I’ll pass.” Virgil set his hand down on the counter. “You get this one pro bono.”

Roman scrambled off his hand, and immediately backed up several steps, probably eyeing a sugar jar as a potential hiding spot. Virgil ignored him, pulling open the cabinet he’d seen Logan place the first aid kit in and setting it down on the counter. He frowned, considering, before pulling a piece of ice from the freezer and setting it in front of Roman.

“That’ll help with swelling, I think.” He scoured his memory for the few lectures Thomas had gotten on basic first aid. Roman stared at him, and he raised an eyebrow, irritated. “What, too cold for Your Royal Highness?” 

He snaps out of it, making a face at Virgil before carefully lowering himself into a sit, setting his ankle against the ice. 

Virgil pulled out his phone, taking note of the time. The creative side had shown himself willing to throw himself off high furniture, so he couldn’t leave until he was at least treated. He could just ignore Roman while the swelling went down and that would make him less nervous, right? 

“Why… are you doing this?” Roman asked, peering up at him.

_Or_ he could engage in a conversation with the side who hated him the most. Sure. Why not.

“What, you _want_ me to stick you in a jar or something?” 

“No!” Roman retorted sharply, before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I simply… don’t understand why you aren’t taking the opportunity to have your petty vengeance when I am clearly in such a sorry state. You must admit, it’s out of character.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes hard enough to increase his growing headache. Ow. “What do you know about my character? I keep Thomas safe, and last time I checked,” he poked Roman gently in the chest, “_you’re_ part of Thomas.” 

Roman batted the finger away, looking unconvinced. 

Virgil sighed, and put his phone away before leaning his head back, his elbows on the counter supporting him. “Do you even know how hard my job would get if you had to go sleep off a broken ankle for a week? Thomas would struggle to come up with anything creative for a new video, and then we’d lose all his fans because he took too long, and then we’d have no money and have to go live out on the streets where anyone can just walk up and stab you!” He shuddered. “Yeah, no thank you.” 

“Wh- but you always shoot down my ideas!” Roman spluttered. 

“Only the stupid ones. You always come up with something better, don’t you?” Virgil thought his explanation was fairly obvious, but Roman was staring at him, mouth open.

His shoulders rose up defensively. “What?” He snapped. “I make your job harder, you make mine harder, but-” _I don’t want you hurt._ “-you’re necessary to Thomas. Obviously.” 

There was a dramatic flash, and when he blinked the afterimage away, Roman was sitting on the counter full-sized, looking as surprised as Virgil. 

They blinked at each other for a moment, and the relief he felt- he hadn’t fucked up too badly!- was quickly overwhelmed by wariness. Normal Roman’s sword was a lot more deadly than the toothpick-sized one, and he wasn’t in the form Roman actually liked. After a moment of awkward silence contemplating the odds of getting stabbed for having an alter ego, Virgil realized this was his _chance_. 

“Oh, great, you’re back to your normal big-headed self. I assume you can handle wrapping your ankle on your own, then.” He pushed away from the counter, voice forced into nonchalance.

“Wait!” Roman clamped a hand onto his wrist, and he barely suppressed a flinch. “Have you seen… a bracelet? Purple, maybe small?” 

Virgil could practically feel the metal charm burning a whole in his pocket. He grimaced. “If I do, I’ll let you know.”

It wasn’t really a lie. He just couldn’t let him know as Anxiety. Roman sighed and released him, and he wasted no time in bolting out of the lounge like his life depended on it, heart racing. 

He was going to take the longest nap of his _life_.


	8. the one with the liars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> morally ambiguous deceit warning.

Apparently, ‘longest nap of his life’ meant three hours, because that was all he got before Patton came knocking gently on his door, snapping him out of a hazy nightmare in a cold sweat.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greeted, eyes suspiciously bright. Ugh, morning people. “We’re having a house meeting!” 

“A what?” Virgil responded automatically. He, of course, knew what a house meeting was, but- “You’ve never invited me to one of these before.” 

Patton had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, we don’t have them very often, and you didn’t… really want to talk to us last time we had one!” 

Oh yeah. He’d been absolutely certain it had only been an excuse for them to all complain about him suddenly ‘moving in’, so to speak. It’d taken actually eavesdropping before he realized it was actually an argument over who kept stealing Logan’s jam. He was fairly sure Roman had only passed up on accusing the new ‘unfriendly neighborhood Dark Side’ because he was the actual culprit. 

“…Sure, okay.”

He followed Patton downstairs, and found the others sitting already in their customary spots on the couch. Out of habit, he stepped towards the spot he normally sat as ‘Puff’, before remembering himself at a slight look of surprise from (still normal-sized) Roman. He propped himself up against the wall closest to Logan’s chair, not in the mood to loom menacingly by anyone who might be perturbed by it. 

As expected, Logan ignored him completely. “Good. Now that we are all here, I believe we should address the situation regarding Roman’s recent shrinking episode.” 

“Did you figure something out, Microsoft Nerd?” Roman asked, leaning forwards slightly. Virgil wondered how the nicknames had such little bite when they were directed at anyone but him.

Logan glanced at Virgil, but upon seeing no question about the situation in his expression, simply continued. “Currently, my hypothesis is that this size reduction happens to us due to the fact that we are incorporeal manifestations of a personality. For example, things like feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable might cause us to involuntarily shapeshift as a mechanism to protect Thomas or ourselves.” 

He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “I believe that is why access to our normal functions is limited whilst in the reduced form, as well, which is highly inconvenient.”

That would really stress Virgil out if he hadn’t already mastered the art of driving himself into the exact mental state needed to trigger his transformation either way. 

“As such,” Logan continued, “we need more information in order to find a solution. I believe Roman can help me test this hypothesis by focusing on aforementioned overwhelming thoughts to see if he can activate this reaction at will.” 

“What? Why me?” Roman protested immediately. “Why don’t you do it, Specs?” 

Logan gave him a condescending look. “Because I have no feelings, obviously. You are the only one we know of showing this symptom, anyhow. Our control group, so to speak.” 

Roman groaned, and for a moment, his gaze flicked to where Virgil was standing, wishing he was in bed as they talked about stuff he already knew. He straightened up a bit, narrowing his eyes back at Roman. What?

The creative side pulled his eyes away without giving him any sort of answer, but Logan hadn’t missed the byplay either. He stared between the two of them for a moment. Patton blinked at all of them mutually, lost in the silent stare off. Slowly, Logan leaned back. 

“If you’d prefer to do this at a later time-” He started, but Roman cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine.” He stared at Virgil like he was trying to convey something meaningful with the words. Virgil stared back, catching exactly none of it.

A moment and a flash later, Roman was sitting on the couch, doll-sized. Patton made the ‘oh no, cute!’ face again, and Virgil couldn’t help but stare. He was so… small. He couldn’t believe Roman had let him pick him up at all, so much could have gone _wrong-_

“Oh, it worked!” Roman said, surprised. Logan hummed consideringly, already deep in thoughts he didn’t bother to share with the rest of them. 

“Can you turn back?” Virgil asked, voice sardonic. Roman scowled imperiously at him, but very noticeably did not get any bigger. 

“That part… appears to be more complicated.”

“Maybe try thinking about the opposite of what got you that size!” Patton offered, Logan nodding in agreement. 

Roman didn’t seem as easily convinced, but he did close his eyes and make an expression of thinking very hard for a few moments. Virgil took the opportunity to go make himself a bagel. It went perfectly up until the toasted bagel popped up loudly, and Roman groaned, presumably at his concentration being broken. 

_“Anxiety.”_

“What?” He responded through a mouthful of crunchy bread. “I’m hungry, I don’t have to watch you focus. You always figure it out eventually.” 

It was definitely meant to be delivered dismissively, but a second later there was a loud clatter from the lounge. Virgil poked his head around the corner. Roman was full-sized again, and had knocked a cup off the table in the process. He squinted at the startled creative side for a second. This was the second time in a row that had happened after he’d spoken.

Was Roman fucking with him? 

… No, Princey was too clueless for that. It was probably just coincidence.

Logan had taken it all in stride, turning to Patton and asking him to replicate Roman’s feat. Virgil took the opportunity to steal some of Logan’s Crofters and smear it over the other half of his bagel. Petty crimes. 

Once he re-emerged, Patton was still the same size, midway through an apology for not being able to manage it. 

“It’s quite alright, I have plenty of new information to look through. Oh, and Anxiety?” Logan called out, making him freeze where he was three steps up the stairs already. Could he seriously smell jam like a hunting dog? 

“Have you experienced anything like this before?” Logan asked, and everyone’s gaze turned to him.

Great, it wasn’t about the jam. It was so much worse. There was no getting out of it this time.

“No.” He answered bluntly, and ignored the way the lie tasted sour in his mouth. “I haven’t.” 

He looked away before he could see the mistrust form in their eyes, and retreated to his room. He hated lying to them, partially because it felt awful, wondering how and when they’d find out his untruths, but also because the more Virgil lied, the better of a grasp_ he_ got on the situation.

As such, it was almost unsurprising when he opened his door and found Deceit, standing in the middle of his room and eyeing his messy floor with distaste. He still felt his heart jump, though, looking over his shoulder as though the others would have trailed after him to witness the impromptu meeting. He slammed his door shut after him, already scowling darkly.

“What are you doing in my room.” He asked, flatly. Deceit gave him a deeply patronizing look. 

“Oh, because I can _totally_ just stand around in the plain sight waiting for you to get back from your little get-together. That _definitely_ wouldn’t get me harassed by those naive idiots.” 

Virgil gritted his teeth at the insult, voice coming out sharp. “I’m the one being harassed. I told you to leave me alone. Get. Out.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t practically calling my name with all the lying you’ve been doing. _Obviously_, you know that even just hiding the truth counts as a lie. You’re _clearly_ doing much better than a liar like me.” 

“Shut up.” Virgil snarled, the shadows in his room curling around his feet. He clenched his fists, ignoring the feel of nails biting into his palms. “You’re just sour that Thomas still hasn’t noticed you, even after I split off and proved that Dark Sides can appear to him.” 

“Oh, you’re _so_ right. It’s not like I want to keep helping him without needing all that attention or anything.” Deceit smiled smugly, as Virgil worked his jaw. “You can’t play the villain forever, Thomas won’t still hate you and get hurt because of it. I’m much worse off, helping keep him safe by keeping him in the dark.”

“I don’t care if he hates me.” Virgil returned, ignoring the way Deceit’s lips thinned knowingly. “Thomas needs his friends, needs _people,_ and if he goes down the road you want him to take, he’ll be alone and hated his whole life, and he won’t even know why.” 

“Virgil, you’re the farthest thing from a hypocrite I’ve ever met.” Deceit offered, saccharine-sweet. “After all, you _certainly _wouldn’t know anything about being alone and hated, now would you?” 

“Yeah, it’s my_ job._” He spat, furious. “I’m supposed to keep Thomas from feeling the way I feel preemptively, genius.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to prevent his voice from slipping. “I knew what I was getting into when I revealed myself. Maybe you should focus more on your own role instead of nosing into my business.”

Deceit’s eyes narrowed slightly with irritation. “Yes, I’m definitely the one slinking about where I don’t belong. You’d _never_ take advantage of someone’s trust under false pretenses, after all.” 

Virgil bit into his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Deceit smirked, as though he’d never been irritated at all. After a moment, the look smoothed over into something more contemplative.

“You are so obsessed with Thomas upholding society’s standards, so afraid of him becoming a bad person. But you don’t have anything to worry about. After all, you’re a reflection of him, and you’re so very selfless, aren’t you?” 

Virgil recoiled as though struck, but there was no victory in the other side’s expression. 

“You made the right choice. The others will accept you when you’re exposed. You won’t regret it.”

With that final condemnation, he sunk away, and Virgil was left alone with the silence ringing in his ears. He hated fighting with Deceit, hated that the man wasn’t above tearing at sensitive spots to get his own point across, hated the raw, cut-open feeling that came with it. 

Most of all, he hated that Deceit was right. 

He was just using the others, lying to them to assuage his own pathetic loneliness. He’d made his choice, he’d known he’d be surrounded by people who didn’t want him there. He’d known, he’d known, and it still never got easier.

The transformation was at the edge of his senses, only a grasp from shifting him, and for a moment he entertained the thought of letting it happen. Running back to them, curling up in the presence of Thomas’ best attributes until Deceit’s words were barely even whispers in the back of his mind… 

Something clicked in the subconscious, and he let the errant dream go, sinking onto his bed. Thomas was making another video, and though it didn’t seem like he was going to be summoned this time, he still had work to do. He pulled up a screen of the scene through Thomas’s eyes, attention catching on every possible minor flaw, predicting the audience’s every possible reaction, determined to make the editing process hell so that only the best of Thomas was shown. 

That was his job, after all.


	9. the one where virgil talks bad about himself (more than usual)

Virgil spent the next two days locked in his room, as though to make up for all the time he’d spent out there with the others where he didn’t belong. His chest constantly seized with anxiety, a dull pain that lingered long into the night. It worked out, since he hadn’t planned on sleeping anyways. 

On the evening of the second day, Virgil was stirred from his fugue by loud knocking on his door. He cocked his head, wondering if he’d imagined it, but no. The knocks came again, distinctly Roman in nature. 

He shuffled over to the door, just barely remembering to pull on the tough guy persona. He really had been spending too much time as Puff if his first outward response to Roman was mild fondness instead of irritation and wariness. 

He cracked it enough to look out with one eye. “What.” 

Roman looked a little frazzled, and had that glint in his eye that meant he was gearing up for an argument. He drew himself up pompously. “Anxiety, I will only ask you this once, and I expect the truth. Have you seen Puff?” 

That… had not been what he was expecting. Still, he didn’t have to lie. He’d been careful to avoid the temptation that would come with transforming. “The dragon? No.”

He wasn’t surprised when Roman remained solidly in place, eyebrows furrowed. “In that case, I’m sure you won’t object to me checking your room?” 

Virgil sighed, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Why do you even care about that thing? It’s practically useless.” 

Roman swelled up in the way that meant he was truly angry, and Virgil reeled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Puff is not a thing! He’s a valiant and trustworthy friend, not that you’d know anything about such qualities.” Roman placed a hand on the door threateningly. “Now, let me in or face the consequences.” 

Virgil bit back the automatic stinging retort, his headache growing worse by the second. Maybe it would be faster if he just… “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” 

He flung the door open, crossing his arms, and Roman nearly lost his balance, eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “Truly?” 

“Make it quick, Princey.” Virgil bit out, irritation flaring up again. The other Side nodded and entered the room as though worried he would change his mind. 

Once inside, though, he looked around as though the decor would grow teeth and bite him. Virgil smirked. That was the desired effect. 

Still, he made a point to sigh loudly as possible, leaning against his wall and trying not to look too exhausted. Sure, two days was the longest ‘Puff’ had ever vanished for, but he hadn’t expected the others to make such a fuss. 

Roman searched diligently, occasionally calling out as though they were playing a game of hide and seek. Virgil stared up at his ceiling impatiently. He wanted to go back to brooding.

“Have you considered that maybe he just went back to wherever he came from?” He offered. “Doesn’t he vanish like, all the time?” 

When no response came, he straightened a bit, looking over at the Prince. 

Roman was standing at his desk, posture stiff, and he immediately felt nervous, trying to remember if he’d left anything incriminating there. “Roman?”

When the creative Side finally turned around, Virgil froze, staring at the small handcrafted bracelet in his hands. After all the chaos with Deceit, he’d forgotten his promise to return it. He scrambled for words, knowing how bad this looked.

“What did you do to him?” Roman said, quiet in a way that made goosebumps rise on the back of Virgil’s neck.

“Nothing! I just found that thing, it wasn’t on the dragon!”

Roman took a step forwards, and Virgil slid back despite himself, bumping against the wall. “Then why did you lie to me about it, Anxiety? I want the truth.” 

Virgil stared at Roman, at the hard set to his jaw and the fury in his gaze, and knew that the truth wasn’t going to satisfy him. 

… Well, it was about time he got back into his rightful role anyhow. 

He pushed away from the wall, getting into Roman’s space with an aggressive scowl. “You want the truth, Princey? I found that trinket and I could feel you did something to it, something designed to work against me. I couldn’t let you hinder me, so I took it.” 

Roman’s eyes widened and then narrowed again. “And Puff? Did you take it from him?” 

“God, relax.” Virgil drawled, rolling his eyes. “I barely even saw the little thing, it ran away as soon as I got close enough to kick it. Cowardly, isn’t it?” 

The words had barely left his mouth before a hand was gripping his collar and shoving him against the wall. His head bounced against it with a thud and he blinked away stars. Roman’s face was darkly furious, and his other hand had summoned his sword automatically. 

“_Don’t_ call him a thing. And don’t ever threaten him again, or I’ll run you through until you discorporate, monster.” Roman told him, still so eerily intense. It was such a sharp contrast to his normal over-the-top, grandiose threats that Virgil was left stunned, heart racing. 

“Whatever, Princey.” He managed, breathing shallow. “I won’t mess with your little pet.” 

Roman growled, shaking him slightly, but seemed to accept that it was as good as he was going to get. He stormed out of the room, taking the bracelet with him.

Virgil twitched his hand, slamming the door shut after him and then wincing at the noise. That was the last time he let his guard down around them. Deceit was right; he’d forgotten that they liked Puff, not Anxiety. And who could blame them? 

He spent another few hours calming down and waiting for his headache to diminish, and then accepted that the deadline for his three day grace period was rapidly approaching. He thought about the promise Roman had made to kill him, and panic swarmed his mind as he imagined how bad his reaction would be if he found out who Puff really was. His head swam, and when he opened his eyes again, he was tiny again for the first time in days. 

He cast a glare at the cuff on his leg, for the first time in a while feeling resentful that it was forcing him from his room. Whatever. He was the bad guy anyways, who cared if he was living a double life that would make them all hate him even more when it was revealed? It only added to his image. 

Shaking off the thoughts, he relished in the last of tightness in his chest as he trotted down the hall. He’d forgotten how muted bad feelings were in this form. 

He made his way to Patton’s room first, remembering how crestfallen the Heart had looked after realizing he was part of the problem in the last video. Knowing him, he’d bottled it all up before anyone else could ask. Virgil was more than familiar with that.

The door was cracked open, and he pushed his face against it to open it further and slip inside. Patton was on the floor, surrounded by crayons and colored pencils as he scribbled halfheartedly on blank printer paper. He looked up at Virgil’s approach, lighting up. “Puff! It’s been a while, buddy!” 

Virgil kneaded the plush carpeting beneath him for a moment before mustering up the courage to approach Patton and nuzzle up against his shoulder. He had never been very good at comforting, but being tiny and cute had to count for something, right? 

Patton stilled, and for a moment Virgil panicked, but then the Side squealed and scooped him up, cradling him in a hug. It was… warm.

They stayed like that for a while, Patton leaning against his bed and Virgil rumbling quietly in his arms. He was on his way to finally drifting off into sleep when a drop of wetness startled him awake. He craned his neck up, his wings flaring up in concern as he took in Patton’s tear-stained face. 

The emotional Side immediately looked ashamed. “Sorry, P-Puff. I’ve just been a little lonely the past couple of days. I’m fine though, I promise.”

As though to prove it, Patton visibly swallowed and forced a smile across his face. Virgil reached up with a paw, wondering how he was going to convey without words that it was okay for Patton to be upset, but before he could touch, there was an audible popping sound, and the arms under him vanished. 

He hit the ground with a surprised yelp, and it only took him a moment to parse what had happened, seeing the tiny form sat next to him. Part of him was panicking about the implications of this happening to Patton as well, who hadn’t been cursed and wasn’t an out-of-place Dark Side, but most of him was focused on soothing the shocked and slightly distressed expression on Patton’s face. 

Remembering how Roman had reacted, he approached slowly with his body low, crooning gently to call Patton’s gaze away from the comparatively huge furniture around them. The other Side startled. 

“Puff! You’re so big! Like a real dragon!” 

Virgil huffed, bumping Patton with his head. There was no trace of fear in his voice, only surprise. Feeling a surge of fondness, he chirped at Patton and brushed against him like an oversized cat. 

Patton stumbled back slightly, a choked giggle spilling from his lips, and then the laugh turned into a sob. He clapped his hands over his face, shoulders shaking, and Virgil whined audibly and pressed his face to the hands until Patton moved them away. 

“I’m sorry, I-I don’t know why-“ 

Patton cut off as Virgil bumped foreheads with him, trying to convey through gaze alone that he didn’t approve of Patton’s apology. He sniffled, and then began to cry in earnest, wrapping his arms around Virgil in a hug as his body shook with the force of it. He muttered half-coherent sentences, apologies mostly, and Virgil purred louder in response, butting his head against Patton’s chest. 

He waited the worst of it out patiently, until Patton was back to small, hiccuping sobs and exhausted eyes. “Gonna pick you up.” He said, except it came out as a rumble-chirp combination. Worth a shot.

Still, Patton didn’t protest when he carefully bit into the back of his shirt and lifted him up, trotting over to the bed and crouching to scale it. Once up, he found the coziest pocket of blankets and carried Patton over to it, setting him down and curling around him like a dragon croissant. 

“Nap time?” Patton asked, leaning against him. “That sounds like a good idea. I always sleep best when you’re next to me.” 

He closed his red rimmed eyes, unaware of Virgil’s flustered expression, and in moments was asleep. Virgil curled up tighter, as though he could protect Patton from ever feeling all bottled-up like that again. 

It wasn’t fair. Patton did so much, managing emotions and morality alike. He was allowed to feel things for himself, even if it was inconvenient for the others. Even if it made Thomas sad. It was his role to regulate a vast majority of emotions, not just the ones that made the others happy. 

He’d known the others hated him for doing his job, but he’d never thought that Patton would face something similar. Surely, Thomas would understand that he couldn’t be unrelentingly positive all the time? 

He sighed. He’d have to figure out some way to get the others to realize, to offer Patton the comfort he would no doubt never accept from Anxiety. Until then, he’d just have to keep a better eye out for him. If that meant sleeping here and risking reverting to normal form, well… it was worth the risk. Besides, Patton was the nicest of the three. If he found out, maybe he would just be privately disgusted and not tell the others so long as Virgil left them alone.

It was the best he could hope for. He sighed, settling down to watch over Patton’s sleeping form for the night.


	10. the one where nobody's really listening

Virgil wasn’t surprised when he woke up on the edge of Patton’s bed distinctly not tiny-dragon-shaped, the moral side starfished out beside him. 

Of course, not being surprised didn’t mean not being very, very panicked, especially when Patton began to sleepmumble indistinctly. It was as sure a sign as any that he was going to be waking up soon. **  
**

Luckily, Patton was much less clingy in sleep than Roman had been, with only a hand thrown over Virgil’s shoulder and an ankle twining under his leg. It was easy enough to sidle away, right up until the mattress disappeared from under him and his stomach lurched as he fell right off the side of the bed with a yelp.

“Humh?” Patton grunted, blankets shifting, and Virgil did the first thing that came to mind with his whole brain in a screaming panic. He rolled under the bed.

There was the creaking of bedsprings above him, and then a muffled yawn. “Mmgh. Puff? Where’re you, buddy?” 

Two feet swung over the edge of the bed to plant themselves on the carpet, and Virgil felt blood rushing in his ears as though he was about to pass out. He’d tried to convince himself last night that maybe Patton wouldn’t be disgusted if he found out, but he knew what kind of luck he had, and it wasn’t the kind that was generous with _maybes._

Feet away, Patton got on his hands and knees to peer under the bed. Virgil shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see his expression when he finally realized who “Puff” really was. 

There was a pause that felt both too long and too short as Patton shifted again, and then gasped…

“There you are, little guy!” 

Virgil opened his eyes, blinking in surprise at the sight of tiny talons instead of fingers in front of him. He’d changed back? He hadn’t been able to while he was on the bed with Patton, or even earlier, tangled up with Roman. What was different?

Patton wasn’t privy to his confusion, laying flat on his stomach and reaching out a coaxing hand. “Did you have a nightmare, Puff? It’s okay, it’s not real. I know sometimes things seem scary, but we’re together, okay?”

Virgil shook himself, focusing back on the matter at hand. He could worry about his scaly ailment’s odd restrictions later. For now, he had to convince Patton to stop shoving all his bad feelings down.

He slunk out from under the bed, brushing against the back of Patton’s hand as he went, and sat right in front of the moral side’s face, inspecting him sharply. _Don’t think I forgot about yesterday_, he tried to convey with a glare. 

Patton barely even blinked at a mythical creature full of sharp teeth and claws getting in his space, because that was just the kind of person he was. At the look, he did have the grace to at least appear sheepish. 

“Hey, it’s okay! Don’t worry about me, I’m all better now, see?” He spread his arms out like he was attempting to make a snow angel face-first. “Back to normal size and everything, not a single problem here–!”

A sharp pop that made Virgil recoil with a squeak, and Patton laid before him once again at a diminutive five inches. He sat up with a frown. “Fiddlesticks.” 

Virgil couldn’t make a sarcastic comment about language, so instead he churred at Patton, unimpressed. 

“Okay,” Patton sighed, “I guess maybe we should go talk to the others, huh?” 

— 

One jaunt over to the commons later, Virgil stood a vigilant guard as Patton showed the others his new stature. 

“And you’re certain no curse triggered it?” Roman asked again, looking troubled. “You weren’t poking at any of my gifts from the imagination or anything?” 

“Nope,” Patton answered, stretching his shoulders absently. “I was just curled up on the floor with Puff, ‘cause he seemed like he could use a hug from a friend, and I…” 

His voice trailed off weakly, a brittle smile beginning to form, and Virgil leaned down to bump his head against Patton’s shoulder in gentle remonstration. Patton stared at him for a long moment, smile still half-frozen on his face, and then let the expression crumple. 

“… I think I needed a friend hug, too.” 

Roman and Logan exchanged panicked glances for a moment, and Virgil huffed a small puff of smoke at them pointedly. Huh. He hadn’t known he could do that. 

Before either of them could speak, however, Patton shifted back to normal with a pop and some flailing that knocked over most of the objects nearby. Virgil jumped nimbly to the couch to be out of range. In hindsight, they probably shouldn’t have people who were going to abruptly jump in size stand on a slightly-messy table.

Patton sniffled, adjusting his disheveled glasses, moving to roll off the table. He looked like he was on the brink of apologizing for his feelings _again,_ so Virgil growled and scaled Roman’s arm to reach his shoulder, cuffing him over the head with a wing. _Show him support, already!_

Roman shot him an offended look, but moved forwards anyhow, offering Patton a hand up. The moral side took it and then was promptly tugged into a hug, Princey lifting him right off the ground for a moment. Still clinging to Roman’s shoulder, Virgil could see Patton’s surprised expression relax and descend into small sobs as he finally let go. 

“Hey, hey,” Roman offered soothingly. “Don’t worry about it, Pat. We all have our bad days, nothing wrong with that.” 

Patton shook his head slightly, but didn’t say anything to the contrary, and Virgil leaned forwards to gently butt foreheads with him before Roman finally released him. 

“How about we help you with breakfast? I can fry up some excellent bacon, if I do say so myself, and Specs is excellent at waffle measurements.” Roman winked, leaning in to stage whisper to Patton. “I’m sure we can sneak in some chocolate chips by the time the batter is ready.” 

Logan rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers and exchanging his normal attire for an apron with the NASA logo on it. “With the advantage I have in attention span, I believe my waffles are at no real risk from the two of you.” 

Roman gasped in outrage, and Patton managed a teary chuckle. “You’re going to eat those words! And some delicious chocolate chip waffles!” 

Virgil balanced delicately on Roman’s shoulders as they all moved to the kitchen, and he chirped in warning before using the creative side as a springboard to clamber up the side of the fridge. Princey snorted at his scramble, but before long all three of the human-shaped sides were busy bustling around the kitchen and Virgil was free to curl up on top of his excellent vantage point and take a well-deserved nap. 

-

“Anxiety?” 

Virgil jerked awake automatically, half-ready to duck away from a blow and snarl a retort, but– he glanced down at his talons. Still Puff. Then, what…? 

“Padre, I know you try to see the best in everyone, but I don’t want that guy anywhere near Puff,” Roman was saying, piling the last pieces of crisp bacon onto a plate with a little more force than necessary. “You should’ve heard the way he talked about him, it just makes me—_ ugh!_” 

He threw his hands up emphatically, and stalked over to the dining table to set the plate down. Patton followed with a dish of waffles stacked high, looking conflicted. Virgil absently noted that Logan had let them get the chocolate chips in after all.

“I know, they don’t seem to get along, but maybe if we all just sat at a dinner together…” he tried, but his voice was weak. 

“For once, I have to agree with Roman,” Logan chimed in, carrying a cup of freshly poured coffee to his seat. “Even without Puff to take into account, I suspect that strong negative emotion is the last thing Morality needs to deal with right now.” 

“And we all know that’s what Anxiety will bring to the table,” Roman added, stabbing a fork viciously into his waffle. “That Negative Nancy never has anything nice to say to anyone.” 

“I… I guess,” Patton said, moving to sit in his own chair with one last look cast over to the stairs.

Virgil felt a tightening in his throat that probably meant he was going to be all sorts of emotional about this moment later, when he was human. Sometimes the anxiety-dampening feature this form came with was handy, he reflected as he glided down to the floor with only a little wobbling. It wouldn’t do him any good to be acting sad when they weren’t even talking about him. 

Something in his mind twinged. He slowed his trot across the carpet for a moment, reviewing his last thought.

… Puff. They weren’t talking about Puff. He was still Anxiety, like it or not. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said, shooting him a smile before leaning over to offer him an arm up. He shook the errant thoughts away, deciding that he should eat first. 

It was better that they didn’t go get Anxiety anyways. Then he’d have to sneak off to play his role or risk them getting suspicious of an empty room. Between being forced through another tense, glare-filled breakfast as Anxiety or sitting content as the tiny dragon people actually liked, the latter was clearly the better option. It just made sense. Who would want Anxiety over Puff, anyways? 

“Speaking of Puff,” Logan started, nodding at him politely, “I was considering the shrinking occurrences again while cooking. Morality, you said Puff was there when you first reduced in size, correct?” 

“Mmhm!” Patton hummed through a mouthful of waffle. Virgil paused in dragging another piece of bacon to himself to tilt his head at Logan curiously. 

“Roman, you believed your reduced size was due to a curse, but Puff was also with you when you first transformed, was he not?” 

“Well, yes, but I’m not entirely sure I like where you’re going with this,” Roman said, frowning. “Surely you can’t be implying that Puff is the cause?” 

Logan didn’t falter, pushing his glasses up slightly as he peered at Virgil. “He is currently the only constant variable in the two cases, seeing as neither I nor Anxiety have been subject to this… shrinking phenomenon. We still don’t know where he came from, and—“ 

“Stop right there, Specs. First Anxiety, now you? There is nothing bad about Puff!” Roman insisted, and if Virgil wasn’t so busy watching the two of them glare, he would have laughed. 

“That’s not what I was—“ 

“Roman’s right, kiddo,” Patton cut in this time, placing a hand on Virgil’s ridged back supportively. “I know you want to get to the bottom of this, but that’s no reason to start accusing friends.” 

Logan took a deep breath. “I know that, I’m simply suggesting that we investigate all possible causes. Unless you want to be left doll-sized without warning at random periods?” 

“I think we’re learning to handle it pretty well,” Patton offered optimistically. Roman nodded, looking a bit smug. 

“Personally, I’ve had enough practice that I’m confident I can reverse the transformation at will! You’re falling behind, Snorelock Holmes.” 

Virgil ducked back slightly, watching as Logan visibly grit his teeth. “I—“ he faltered for a moment, lips thinning, and then stood. “I am going to retire to my room. I will speak with you all at a later date.” 

He immediately sunk out, ignoring Patton’s protests. Roman rolled his eyes, and then visibly remembered that he was supposed to be cheering Patton up and turned back to the moral side. “Look, we’ll let Calculator Watch cool his jets by doing sudoku puzzles or whatever it is he enjoys. In the meantime, I was thinking of having a movie marathon, which you are most certainly invited to. Maybe some classic Disney will lift your spirits?” 

Patton nodded slowly, still looking slightly troubled. “It feels wrong to let him storm off like that, but I don’t want to make him upset by pushing…” 

“Then it’s settled!” Roman decreed, rising to his feet and sweeping a few dishes off the table into his hands. “I’ll clean up here and prepare some snacks– other than myself– so you go pick a movie to start with.” 

Virgil left the last piece of bacon on his plate untouched, appetite suddenly gone as a strange compulsion tugged at his chest. He jumped down to follow Patton over to the couch, and then slowly ambled over to the stairs as Patton began shifting through their movie cabinet. If he could just make his motions casual enough…

“Puff? Where’re you going, buddy?”

Virgil twisted to peer over his shoulder at Patton, who seemed curious but thankfully not upset. He glanced up at the hall that led to Logan’s room, and then back to Patton. Wasn’t it obvious?

“You’re gonna go check on Logan?” Patton asked, and Virgil hopped up another step in confirmation, waiting to see what the moral side thought. “I see… Maybe you’ll know what to do better than I do. Stay safe, okay?” 

That was a relief. If it had been Roman, he probably would have had a much more difficult time scampering off. The prince was bizarrely attached to his dragon self. 

He chirped once and continued to scale the stairs, claws finding easy purchase on the carpeted corners. It was only once he’d vanished from view that he began to slow, wondering what exactly his plan was. Logan was upset, that much he knew, but how could he fix it? He was Anxiety, and dark sides weren’t really known for ‘fixing’ things. 

There was another tug in his chest, an urge to go-find-protect that only increased with his certainty that Logan was hurting. He took a deep breath, shaking his wings out. First things first, there was no way Logan wanted to see him like this, not after his theory about Puff was the reason he’d gotten agitated in the first place. 

Not to mention, he didn’t particularly want to reveal anything more about Puff to the intelligent side when he barely knew what was going on himself. He focused for a moment, closing his eyes and pulling for the harsh cold edges of his real form. When he opened his eyes again, the world around him was visible from a human eye level once more, and his lungs felt as though they were being constricted.

He stuttered through a few shallow inhales, and then firmly stomped down the panic and racing thoughts down before they could reverse his transformation. He was Anxiety now, and that meant everything that came with it. He’d deal with the panic attack later.

Unfortunately, including his less-than-popular social status, he reflected as he knocked on Logan’s door for the third time. “Logic, it’s me– shoot, I guess we all kind of sound the same, huh? It’s Anxiety. Are you going to let me in or not?”

Silence. 

“What, did you drown in a lab sample or something? Come on, I know you can hear me.” 

Not a peep from behind the door, but the certainty that Logan was feeling threatened and overwhelmed only increased. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides for a few moments, and then he growled in frustration. “Screw it, I’m going in.” 

Surprisingly, Logan’s door wasn’t locked, the handle twisting easily under his grip. He entered with careful steps and stopped short. It wasn’t a particularly large room, professional-looking with not many places to hide. Logan wasn’t visible on the bed or at his desk, and he didn’t seem the type to dive into a closet to hide from someone. 

Despite the evidence before his eyes, he knew that Logan had to be in the room, which meant that he was tiny. Everyone in this part of the mindscape had officially had a turn, it seemed. Virgil forced his thoughts away from that line of thinking, since he couldn’t afford to have a panic attack at the moment. 

“Logan? I know you’re in here, dude.” After a moment of hesitation, he knelt on the floor, watching the ground carefully. 

There. He doubted he’d have caught it if he wasn’t Anxiety, but there had been the slightest movement in the corner of his eye, under the desk. Without thinking, he turned his head to look closer, and was rewarded with the sight of a tiny form stumbling back a few panicked steps.

“Hey– wait!” Virgil lunged forwards, chin meeting carpet as he just barely reached his goal. He heard Logan yelp as hands bracketed into a curved shape around him, the tiny side backing into his fingers for a moment before jerking away. 

“Anx— Anxiety, what is the meaning of this?” Logan said, tilting his chin up and trying to conceal the way he was slightly shaky. Afraid of him. 

Virgil kept his hands still, resisting the urge to scowl. “Relax. I’m not going to grab you. Here, just—” He glanced behind Logan, and nudged him forwards slightly, ignoring the glower sent his way with practiced ease. Once he deemed the nerd secure, he pulled his hands away, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“If you’re finished assaulting my person, I’d appreciate an explanation. Now,” Logan demanded, looking increasingly exasperated. 

Virgil rolled his eyes, pointing. “You were about to take a nosedive, Pocket Protector.”

Logan turned and blinked at the open heating duct on the floor under the desk. The one he’d been about to trip back onto, resulting in at best a sore backside and at worst a bone-breaking fall. “… I see. Well, you have my gratitude, though I doubt I would have encountered such a difficulty if you hadn’t decided to intrude upon my abode.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, and Logan coughed tactfully before continuing. “It’s irrelevant now. What was it that you needed?” 

“Me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who’s literally pint-sized at the moment.” 

“I would estimate my current height is closer to a half-pint,” Logan corrected, “and regardless, it’s none of your concern.” 

“It’s my concern when it means I could be next,” he countered, thinking fast. “You’re Thomas’s intellect, you’ve got to have some idea of what’s happening. _Why_ it’s happening.”

“I do have a hypothesis, however, regarding–” Logan cut himself off, face falling into a frown. Virgil could see the wheels turning in his little head, and resisted the urge to wince. “You were eavesdropping.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Virgil answered anyways with an echo of his usual smirk. “Remember, I’m always listening.” 

“You only listen to yourself,” Logan snapped back with surprising ferocity. Virgil opened his mouth, but the logical side wasn’t done. “You’re the same as the others, too _emotional_ to actually use your brain for anything but your own feedback loop. You’re only listening to me because you think I’m on your side of this conflict.” 

“That’s not true,” Virgil interjected, shifting to sit up with a frown. Logan took another step away, craning his neck up, but didn’t back down.

“Oh?” Logan said, sounding incredulous enough to make Virgil’s hackles rise. “What would you think, then, if I said that I believed Puff wasn’t behaving maliciously?” 

Virgil bit his tongue on his instinctive response, forcing himself to take a moment and think about the suggestion without letting any of his insider knowledge of the situation slip. If Patton had found a sentient monster that everyone seemed to love, and then everyone exposed to it had started shifting mass at around the same time? Yeah, he would absolutely have a healthy suspicion, and more than a few conspiracy theories on the topic.

The real question was, would he be restrained enough to trust Logan’s judgement? He hesitated.

“Look, I can’t _not_ be suspicious, but…,” Virgil sighed at the slight slump of Logan’s shoulders. “Ugh, whatever. You’ve spent more time near that little monster than me. If you think it isn’t trying to hurt anyone on purpose, then fine, I’ll follow your lead until– I mean, unless– unless things get dicey.” 

“You… are being genuine.” The scrutinizing look that Logan gave him was almost insulting, but fair. He was still a dark side, after all, and even now he was hiding his actual motivations to keep himself safe. 

Virgil shrugged. “You generally know what you’re talking about. It’d be stupid not to listen to you, and I may be a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. I leave that to Princey– woah!” 

With a loud thunk, Logan had returned to his normal size, half his body knocking against the underside of the desk. Virgil did wince this time. “Ouch.” 

Of course, when he emerged from under the desk, necktie askew, he barely even seemed to notice the bump, eyes alight as he looked at his hands. “Did you see that?” 

“A bit hard to miss,” Virgil muttered, and was promptly ignored as Logan scrambled through a pile of notebooks for the right one to jot his new findings down in, mumbling to himself about triggers and overlapping variables. 

Virgil sighed in faux annoyance, careful to conceal the relieved smile he felt coming on at the sight of a return to status quo. “Alright, nerd, I’m leaving. Remember to sleep, or Thomas will stay up on wikipedia all night, and I’ll make him google creepypasta as payback.” 

“Wait, Anxiety,” Logan looked up, his pen stilling on the page. “You do know that if you ever suffer from this affliction, you can reach out, correct? I’m aware we are not always on the best of terms, but such a shift can be… disorienting, to say the least. It would be illogical of me to leave you to face it alone.” 

“Yeah,” Virgil rolled his eyes, “I know. Don’t worry, Teach, I’m aware that you want to know about every instance of this shrinking thing.” 

Logan frowned as though he wanted to say something else that might embarrass them both, so Virgil spared him the effort by saluting shortly before sinking out. 

As soon as he was in the hall again, he knocked a fist to his shoulder in a self-soothing motion, panic rising up like a wave. He’d promised himself he’d deal with these feelings, but with them bearing down on him like this… 

He turned towards the faint sound of Lilo & Stitch in the commons, and released his grip on his human form, feeling the stress fade into the background as he became Puff again. 

He could afford a little more time like this, couldn’t he? 


	11. the one where virgil comes up with a solution

After a few days of solitude, Logan emerged from his room with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 

He dropped a comically large stack of paper onto the lounge table, interrupting their bi-monthly binge of Parks and Rec. Patton obligingly paused the television, smiling at the sight of the other Side. 

Roman probably would have complained, except Virgil-- as Puff-- had been dozing on top of his head for the past twenty minutes, and one of his wings was draped over Roman’s face like a makeshift blindfold. So, he hadn’t really been watching anyways. 

“I’ve figured it out,” Logan said, gesturing to the meticulous lines of not-so-meticulous handwriting. “The shrinking.” 

Everyone seemed to perk up in interest, and Virgil dropped onto Roman’s shoulder, kneading his claws lightly into the sash. 

“You know why?” Patton prompted after another moment of Logan preening.

“Yeah, Specs, don’t leave us in suspense!” Roman demanded, valiantly restraining his gesturing for the sake of not accidentally unbalancing Virgil. The two of them had only had to learn that lesson once. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses briefly. “My current hypothesis is that our reduced states are the result of a sort of… mental lock. We shrink when the locking mechanism is triggered, and it takes a figurative key to restore our previous, normal stature.”

“A key?” Patton asked. “You figured out how to undo it?” 

“Not for everyone. Think of it as customized locks. There’s a different key for each of us, and I’ve only discovered my own.” 

Virgil tilted his head curiously at Logan’s words. The first bit was about what he’d figured, but a ‘key’ to change back? He used to think he only changed back in his room, but there had been a couple of occasions where he’d shifted forms unexpectedly. None of the others had had to be in their rooms to change back, either. 

Roman was frowning in thought. “Wait, how in the name of Disney did you figure out  _ your _ key?”

Logan looked delighted at the question. He moved to sit in his usual armchair, and then closed his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly and his mouth dropping into a frown. 

In the next moment, he was doll-sized. “Extensive and rigorous experimentation,” he said, carefully getting to his feet on the plush chair fabric. 

Roman and Patton immediately burst into excited chattering, each theorizing or commenting on Logan’s tiny stature, and Virgil quickly abandoned ship before Roman really did gesture him right into the air. He trotted along the back of the couch and kicked off of it, landing on the arm of Logan’s chair. 

Logan looked up at him for a moment, before referring to a pile of tinier-than-normal flashcards pulled from his pocket. “Puff. I hope there’s no ‘hard feelings’ about my former hypothesis. It was nothing personal, I can assure you.” 

It wasn’t like the theory had been too far fetched. Virgil hopped down to the seat of the chair and brushed against Logan’s side like a large, scaly cat. It seemed to do the job of convincing Logan that they were cool. 

Logan looked back over at the other two. “Time to continue the lecture, I believe.” 

With that, he clapped his hands together in a familiar pattern, one that had been used in countless classrooms in Thomas’s life. Two normal claps, and then three rapid ones.

Almost immediately, Patton and Roman clapped the returning pattern, paused as though registering what they’d done, and then turned to face Logan. 

“Was… Did you just teacher-clap at us?” Roman asked, astounded. 

Logan looked incredibly smug at his gambit working so perfectly, and Virgil barely had time to claw his way back up onto the armrest before the logical Side was back to normal.

“My key,” he said, “is being listened to.”

Then, as though he couldn’t resist, he added, “Who’s falling behind  _ now, _ Roman?” 

Roman spluttered with exaggerated indignance, and Virgil was absolutely certain that Princey was going to spend the next several days rising to the challenge. He shook his wings out, the dragon equivalent of rolling his eyes. 

Patton, on the other hand, clapped enthusiastically as though Logan had performed a magic trick. “Wow, way to  _ grow! _ ” 

Logan sighed deeply. Patton grinned, and then paused.

“See, the only thing I’m wondering now is,  _ why  _ is this happening to us all of the sudden? It's certainly not something we had to deal with before.” 

There was a terse silence. 

“I’m still working on theories in that regard,” Logan finally responded, mouth pinched slightly. “There have been many periods in the past where certain upheavals in Thomas’s life have led to our surroundings or our very selves changing. It’s entirely possible that this… ‘shrinking’ effect is a similar case. That brings me to my next point: we need to speak with Thomas.” 

Virgil noticed Roman grimace for a moment. “Does he really need to know about all… this?” 

“We certainly can’t keep it from him!” Patton replied as he walked closer to the rest of them and held out his arm. Virgil scaled it with ease, clambering up to perch on Pat’s shoulder like a parrot. For once, he agreed with Roman. He wasn’t sure this would end well, but... it wasn’t his job to bring up doubts right now. “He’s going to have to learn about it eventually, whether now or whenever he calls us up to talk about whatever is bothering him.”

“Precisely,” Logan agreed. “The more information we gather on this matter, the better.” 

“I guess…,” Roman crossed his arms, but conceded. Patton gave him an encouraging hug. 

“Plus,” he added as he pulled away, “if we go now, we can have Thomathy meet Puff!” 

A beat late, Virgil realized just what that meant, and a flood of panic washed out the peaceful haze in his mind. They couldn’t take him to see Thomas! What if he recognized him? 

… What if he didn’t?

“It’s fine with me,” Logan added. “He does seem to be a rather permanent fixture in the Mindscape, though I’m not sure what that says about Thomas.” 

“It says that he’s simply the coolest,” Roman shot back, his spirits seemingly lifted by the idea. He reached over and lifted Virgil off Patton’s shoulders, holding him in the air and spinning in a dizzying circle. “You’ll love Thomas, Puff, just you wait.” 

“Why wait?” Patton chimed in with an excited smile. “I’ll go let the kiddo know we’re coming!”

He sank out, and Logan spent a short moment making sure his tie was properly aligned before following. Roman tilted his head slightly as though listening to an invisible sound before smiling widely. “There’s our cue!” 

Before Virgil could do more than feel a sense of impending doom, the world was blurring and shifting around them, and he was dragged up along with Roman. 

The dizziness as he entered the real world was so heady that he nearly blacked out, his head spinning. When his vision cleared, he realized he was being held up like an infant Simba. 

Right in front of Thomas’s face. He froze like a deer in the headlights, mind screaming wordlessly.

“Ta-da!” Roman announced. “The newest, cutest denizen of your mind! Aside from me, of course.” 

Thomas leaned in slightly, no trace of disgust or fear on his face. It made him look younger. “Woah. Hey there, little guy. Puff, right?” 

He held his hand out carefully, and almost magnetically, Virgil placed a tiny, clawed hand on it. An encouraging smile was all it took, and then he was abandoning all caution and climbing right into the arms of the one who was supposed to fear him the most. 

Thomas just shifted obligingly to create a better platform, and ran a thumb over his spine scales. Virgil craned his head up to look, and saw only quiet astonishment and awe on his face.

There was no question. He didn’t recognize him. 

Virgil had no idea what the emotion in the pit of his stomach was-- an amalgam of relief, disappointment, terror, sadness, so dense it was physically painful-- but after a moment, he let himself go lax. He could deal with it later. He could deal with everything later.

For now, Thomas was holding him close like he was something treasured, something precious. It was more than he’d ever hoped for and all he could ever need. 

Whenever Thomas spoke, he could feel the words vibrating in his chest. It was almost like a hug. He stayed there, content to listen only vaguely as the others explained what was going on and tried to work out the reason why. 

After a while of circular discussion, Thomas went a little tense, catching Virgil’s attention. He hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going wrong to cause this… inner turmoil, right? Why don’t we get Anxiety in on this? If there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s coming up with worst-case scenarios.”

Virgil went still and frozen, and Roman’s gaze darted down to him for a moment before his expression firmed into a frown. “Absolutely not. That villain won’t have anything helpful to contribute.”

“On the contrary, I believe Thomas has a point. Anxiety could have a side to this story that we haven’t heard yet, but if we were just to ask him,” Logan countered, “he may share.”

“Kind of strange that he hasn’t popped up already,” Patton added with a concerned frown. “The kiddo doesn’t generally like it when people talk about him without him there.” 

“Let’s at least give it a shot,” Thomas decided, lifting a hand. “Anxiety!” 

No, no no  _ no _ . This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. Virgil braced for the irresistible tug on his core, the breaking apart of his fragile peace--

It didn’t come. 

There was no pull. Why wasn’t he feeling the pull? He couldn’t detect even the slightest call, which was impossible, unless-- 

Perfectly on cue, a dark figure appeared from thin air on the staircase, jumpscaring Thomas and offering a mocking smirk.

“You called?” 

It… was him. It was Anxiety, dark hoodie and darker eyeliner, sneer and all. Virgil felt the strangest disconnect from his own identity for a moment before things snapped back into place. No summons, his own desire for secrecy, a perfect doppelganger.

Deceit. 

A low, rumbling growl started up in his chest, and his hackles rose instantly at the sight of that  _ liar _ daring to wear his face.

Thomas’s hands jerked away in surprise, and Patton reached over to soothe him. “Easy, Puff. He won’t do anything to you, promise.” 

“That’s right,” Roman agreed in a completely different tone, stepping forwards to put himself between the fake Anxiety and the others, as though Virgil was pathetic enough to be worried about  _ himself  _ and not whatever bullshit Deceit-As-Anxiety was about to feed the others. His growl lowered in volume, but refused to taper off. 

“Like I care about your newest  _ pet project, _ ” Fake-Anxiety said, rolling his eyes in disdain. “I’m just here to do what I do best: tell you how you messed up.” 

Logan frowned at him. “You believe our current situation is the result of Thomas erring in some way?” 

“Not just some way.  _ All  _ the ways. It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Fake-Anxiety said, gesturing widely to Thomas with one hand. “Something’s wrong with you. You’re broken.” 

“That’s not true,” Patton said firmly, frowning in disapproval. “Anxiety, I expected better from you.” 

Virgil felt his throat close up, even though he wasn’t really the one Patton was speaking to. It wasn’t like Patton knew that. How was he ever going to look anyone in the eye after this?

“Wait, what? How am I broken?” Thomas asked, not as indignantly as Virgil would have preferred. He gently butted his head against Thomas’s arm for morale-boosting purposes. 

“I mean, think about it,” Fake-Anxiety said, spreading his palms open in a faux innocent gesture. “How many times have you screwed up in the past couple of weeks? Speaking with family, hanging out with friends, even just basic customer service interactions. Those were all your fault, and you know it.”

Thomas’s hands shook slightly. “I…” 

“Falsehood,” Logan cut in sharply, his expression severe. “A person cannot be ‘broken’, particularly not for simple mistakes. In any case, there is no meaningful connection to be drawn between your baseless accusation and our current conundrum.” 

Before Fake-Anxiety could respond, Patton’s hands flew to his mouth. “Wait. Kiddo, you don’t really think that about yourself, do you?” 

All eyes turned to Thomas, who hesitated just a beat too long. “No… I mean, not entirely. Not all the time.”

“Thomas…” Roman looked stricken. “There’s no reason to feel bad about yourself!” 

“Emotions… are often without reason,” Logan said, sharing a look with Patton. “This is important information, though. It’s entirely possible that a negative sense of self could affect us, as aspects of yourself. This could be the cause.”

“Then… How do I fix it?” Thomas asked, voice strained. 

“You can’t,” Fake-Anxiety said, inspecting his nail polish as though bored. “You’re going to be stuck like this forever.” 

“The first step,” Logan said, with a complicated glance towards the figure on the stairs, “is not letting negative thoughts control you. I was hoping Anxiety would be able to shed a light on our discussion, but it’s become clear that he’s… not in a helping mood.”

Fake-Anxiety clicked his tongue. “I’m helping. Helping you not make an even bigger embarrassment out of yourself.” 

“Don’t listen to that villain,” Roman told Thomas, glancing down at ‘Puff’. “You have the power to send him away, Thomas.” 

“Don’t bother. I’ve said my piece, and you know I’m right.” Fake-Anxiety gave a mocking salute before sinking out, making brief eye contact with Virgil as he did.

“He’s not right… right?” Thomas asked, his face a little pale. “I mean, it’s  _ Anxiety. _ ” 

In his arms, Virgil tucked his limbs in tighter against himself.

“You are not broken,” Logan reiterated calmly. “Take a few deep breaths.” 

“You do feel bad, though,” Patton said, a hand pressed over his heart in sympathy. “Kiddo... why don’t you take today for yourself?” 

“That’s right!” Roman gripped Thomas’s shoulder comfortingly. “Do something that you’ll enjoy, and you can worry about everything else tomorrow, okay? We’ll sort things out on our end.” 

They spoke for a little longer, making new plans and cancelling old ones, and Virgil felt as though his mind was full of static. Eventually, finally, he was back on Roman’s shoulder, ready to sink out. 

“Nice meeting you, Puff,” Thomas waved, and something in Virgil’s chest twisted painfully at it all. He chirp-crooned back, and it felt like a goodbye. 

-

Luckily for him, the others were all preoccupied with their own thoughts and plans. It took almost no effort to slip away, and before he knew it he was back in his own room, in the form that everyone hated. 

His summon was nonverbal and insistent, and before long, Deceit appeared before him, this time in his own skin. Virgil wanted to yell, to rage and vent the emotions inside of him.

“How could you?” Instead, his voice came out quiet. Cold. Betrayed.

Deceit shifted, a flash of discomfort crossing his face before he composed himself. “They needed a villain. Last I checked, it was you who cast yourself in that role.”

A villain. He felt himself shaking, distantly. “You used me. Like an object.” 

“To help Thomas--”

“To frighten him into doing what you wanted!” Virgil said, voice finally rising. “To guide the others like puppets on strings and to make me take the fall for _ your _ plan!”

“This is for you, too!” Deceit finally snapped back, before taking a deep breath. “This isn’t a framing, Virgil. It’s an opportunity. They won’t look for you, and that gives me enough time to fix things. Come  _ home. _ ” 

Virgil laughed, once, harsh like broken glass. “No.”

Deceit held up a hand, sweeping it downwards and shifting himself into Fake-Anxiety again. It was like looking in a mirror, but the reflection was… different, this time. It wasn’t the one that had sat on the stairs before.

“Look at yourself, Virgil. Look at what you’ve been doing to yourself.” 

The bags under his eyes were dark and sallow. He was shaking and sweating, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. His body looked like it’d been having consecutive panic attacks for days on end, and there were plenty more coming. 

“You don’t have to do this anymore. We both know that you’d have an easier time if Thomas wasn’t always fighting against you.”

He tore his eyes away from the reflection. If he thought about it for too long, he’d spiral, and then all of it-- every comment, every look, everything he’d been tucking away for the past weeks-- would come rushing up to meet him. Like hitting water from a hundred feet up and finding it felt like concrete. Like drowning.

“Virgil?”

He was tired of this. “Get out.” 

Deceit said something else, but it was his room, and it followed his will. The other Side was evicted, shoved out, gone. He took a breath, but it felt too shallow and caught in his lungs. 

He wasn’t going to get anything done in this form. He wasn’t of any damn use in this form. Nobody wanted him like this. Why not ease his grip, let go? 

He wouldn’t have to be Anxiety and everything that came with it. It would be selfish, but-- but Puff was better for everyone, not just him. It made sense. 

He sighed in relief as the transformation washed away the vice grip around his lungs and the dizzying pounding of his head. The feelings were muffled, as though he’d put on thick, good quality headphones. It was nice.

It was also harder to focus in this form, unfortunately, but the idea-- the  _ solution  _ remained helpfully stuck in his head. He easily found his way into Roman’s room to collect what he needed, but Roman himself was absent. 

He padded down to the commons, and found all three of them were there. Their discussion came to a halt as he carefully jumped up on the couch, dropping his prize into Roman’s lap. 

“Oh, Puff…” Roman seemed sad, so he kneaded the creative Side’s leg with the dull edge of his claws.

“What is that?” Patton asked curiously. 

Roman shifted, as though anticipating a scolding. “It’s a charmed bracelet. I designed it to keep Anxiety away from Puff. And you know what? I was right to make it! You saw how he acted today!”

Patton bit his lip but remained quiet. Something about the silence hurt, but that was okay. It wouldn’t hurt for long. He nudged the bracelet slightly, impatient.

“Why hasn’t he been wearing it, then?” Logan asked, a curious bend to his eyebrows. 

“He… Well, he didn’t want it at first. Put it on yours truly instead,” Roman replied, carefully brushing a hand over Virgil’s head. “I suppose he changed his mind.” 

“Did Anxiety really scare him that badly?” Patton asked, voice heartbroken. 

Roman frowned determinedly and finally started undoing the clasp. “Whatever that scoundrel did, he won’t be able to bother Puff anymore. This will make sure of it.”

He carefully wound the bracelet around Virgil’s neck, gently adjusted it until it fit right, and reconnected the ends. The last thing Virgil saw before the world went hazy was the three of them, the best parts of Thomas, looking back at him without any fear or hatred. 

Then, there was only Puff.


End file.
